Pocket Change 3: Hide & Seek
by Sharon R
Summary: Final installment of Pocket Change series. Luka and Carter are back in Chicago, but will their deep dark secrets interfere with their lives? Can they each move on amidst tragedy? Will they ever open up about Africa? And who IS the mystery person this time
1. Default Chapter Talking in Code

_**POCKET CHANGE 3  
**__**(Trilogy finale to Pocket Change, and Pocket Change 2: A Game of Cards)**_

_**by Sharon R.**_

Disclaimer: The ER characters are owned by Warner Brothers or whoever signs the actors' paychecks. The author owns only her original characters. The story is for entertainment purposes only and not profit.

This takes place right at the end of PC2 as Luka and Carter are treating a patient in the ER. If you have not read PC 1 and 2, you may read this from the perspective of those who are being kept from the secrets. But knowing these deep dark secrets would be much more fun!_

* * *

_

_**Prologue**_

_Her hair was so soft, he'd almost forgotten. He loved to touch it as she slept - gently, very gently so as not to wake her. He'd stroke it from the top to the tips almost as though to reassure himself that she was with him. But this night he kept his hand on her head feeling the warmth of her as she squirmed a bit while tending to her night time dreamscapes. It had become a habit of his to fight his own heavy eyelids until he knew for sure that she was comfortably beyond what had become a frightful awakening. It's not as if he hadn't wanted this in the past. Being with her was something that he had fought from within for both her sake and his. But now, after everything they had been through, they had come to… to… this. And this time he would make it work. Her hair was so soft…_

**Chapter One: Three months previous**

Chuny had already called for someone to clean up after the last code, but knowing that they wouldn't be able to wait much longer for the next GOMER to grace them with their presence, Sam started in on the mess left behind. Full moon, Friday night, motorcycle convention in town and a freak spring snowstorm. Almost made the tenth viewing of _Mad Max _at home with Alex seem inviting. Almost, not quite. The last transvestite biker bitch in high heeled go-go boots looked better than Tina Turner.

"Sam, have you seen Carter?" Abby stuck her head in the door, a stack of charts toppling to the floor. "Damn it!"

"Hey, how was your ENT rotation?"

"I'm beginning to think that every kid in the greater Chicago area has bilateral tubes," Abby groaned as the two dropped to the floor to pick up what would be the start to her next and final rotation of med school. "I mean, I like kids, but how excited can I get about charting and observing twenty-five of those a day? They put ear tubes in kids like it's some minor cosmetic surgery. Parents ask - kids get."

"Alex had tubes."

"Oh," she grimaced, "sorry."

"That's okay. What did you need?"

"Carter. Weaver keeps calling down for him. I thought I'd find him and save Frank from another ugly heart attack."

"He and Luka are next door with a drunk."

Abby stood and peaked over Sam's shoulder at the two doctors behind the glass window sitting on either side of a very large passed out patient. "What's his story?"

"According to Haleh he decided to sleep it off in a garbage truck. Multiple lacs, fractured sternum and ribs, bruised pericardium, putrid breath and one hell of a headache."

"It takes two Attendings to suture a drunk?"

"Apparently."

"I have five H & Ps to do before I can manage a very overdue glucose fix at the vending machine. Can you tell Carter that Weaver's on the war path for him and the students and residents are aware of it?"

"The Attendings are old and rusty when it comes to fleeing from Weaver's grasp."

"No, actually just annoyingly unaffected. Thanks Sam."

The door swung back and forth with a reverberating thud as Abby left with the usual speed at which students were expected to move - that would be _warp _speed. As Sam turned her attention back to the vacated and waste strewn trauma room and her chore at hand, she heard a crash of charts down the hall and a faint complaint in the distance.

"_Damn it all_."

Sam chuckled under her breath as she finished disposing the syringes in the red sharps container.

"Okay, we're here Nurse Sam. I hurried right away for you."

Two guys from Environmental Services stood in the doorway. Artie had Down Syndrome, was a hard worker and was also very fond of all of the nurses, Sam in particular. Bobby was a terminal college student working on a degree in 'Living at Home and Sponging Off Mom and Dad'.

"They called me and I came pronto for Nurse Sam," Artie gushed with a big smile.

"Yeah, nimrod," Bobby spouted loudly enough for the entire ER to hear, "and you ran into that other lady doctor in the hall."

"Not _me_."

"**Hey**," Sam interrupted as she spied Luka taking his gloves off and leaving the trauma room next door, "it's okay. Just get to work." Sam washed her hands before giving Artie a pat on the back. "Thank you for coming so fast, Artie."

"I like Dr. Abby too."

"That's good," she assured the young man, "variety is the spice of life, Artie."

The guy had a Frankenstein aura about him - now, that is. The sutures didn't take away from the guy's looks. Rather they added to the tattoos and randomly odd placed piercings.

"Is that…?" Sam tilted her head and pointed at the man's midsection as Carter finished suturing a hip laceration.

"A tattoo?" Carter raised his eyebrows and managed to grin between tying knots. "Yep. The lack of color leads me to believe it's a prison tat."

"But… but doesn't skin have to be, um, taut to ink on a tattoo?" She scrunched her face as the obvious answer preceded Carter's.

"Cut please." He held the last of the suture material up for Sam's scissors, then winked. "Yep."

"Eww. I'm getting a mental picture here that I don't particularly want hanging around in my head."

"Yep, once again. I don't even want to think about it." Carter couldn't hide a shiver that involuntarily passed through his body and tried to cover as he reached for the gauze pads and tape.

"I'll do that," Sam offered as she began to dress the repaired wounds, the patient snoring and snorting below. "Anything else you need?"

"A bed. I've called 4C three times and they don't seem to want him."

"I'll see what I can do. You need to learn to leave out the sordid details."

Carter sat to the side and finished the chart looking forward to that cup of coffee Luka had offered him. It had been a long day - hell, it had now become a long night. He signed off on the treatment sheet, double checked that the labs were all in order and made a mental note to call the unit in the morning to check on the guy.

"I know he's Haleh's patient, but would you mind getting another crit before he goes upstairs? And increase the rate on his banana bag too. Maybe tag one of these new flustered med students to babysit him." Carter paused to rub the sleep from his eyes. "And, thank you."

"Sure. Hey Carter, can I ask you a question?"

"Uh-huh."

"You and Luka are good friends. Close. Has he always been this…"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. You two are still together, aren't you?"

Sam nodded. "Well, yeah. But…"

"You should really be talking to him."

"I would, but sometimes he seems so distant. I think he'd jump at a chance to make a commitment to stay in Alex's life, but when it comes to me he just gets," Sam sat down exasperated with herself, "distant," she repeated.

"Sam," Carter scratched his head with the end of his pen and smiled, "isn't this girl talk or something?"

"It's like he has all these secrets." She looked up at Carter and realized that she wouldn't be getting any help from Luka's friend. "Okay. Never mind. By the way, Weaver's looking for you."

"Still? Okay," he sighed heavily, "I'll see what I can do about that. Come get me when Harold here is ready to go upstairs."

"Harold?"

"Harold"

Carter nearly tripped over a large family finally getting discharged, all six of the children treated for Sarcoptic Mange - scabies. After spending hours cooped up in a small exam room they ran out the door into the snowfall, laughing and shouting. The littlest one stopped to wave meekly, but with a wide grin, at Carter reminding him of Mbuto.

_(A very few song lysrics from Don't Miss You at All by Norah Jones and D. Ellington previously properly attributed, have been deleted 5/03/05 as per site administrator's new regulation. The complete original text of this fic can be read at LUKAFIC)_

"Turn off the TV, Jerry."

"I just got on," the large sized unit clerk whined as he licked the donut glaze from his fingers. "It's Friday night. They always have Chicago's most wanted on the news."

"Keep it up Jerry, and you'll be following in Frank's footsteps in more ways than one." Carter went into the lounge where Luka had disappeared a short time ago.

"Where's Haleh?" Sam asked exiting the trauma room.

"Off. Just left," Jerry mumbled.

"_Gross_. Wipe your mouth, at least." Sam expected more from her own kid. "Let me know when labs come back on the drunk in two. I got a bed for him on 3B but I've got to hurry up and get him there before they realize what they're in for."

"You get the nice parting gift," Susan announced. "The only unit Carter _hasn't _tried to get that guy to yet is OB. You know, he talks too much."

"Maybe about work, but he's pretty tight lipped about his personal life. I tried to talk to him about Luka and he wasn't very forthcoming."

"Guys don't do that," Susan added. "They _do _things together, but they don't talk."

"Those two do. It's like… like…"

"Like they have secrets." Abby put down her stack of charts with a thud just in time for Susan to hand her more.

"Yeah," Susan and Sam said in unison.

Abby reached for a pen, losing out to Jerry whose sticky hands got to it first. "Why are you two looking at me?"

"You dated both of them," Susan remarked without much of a pause. "Kind of like expert opinion."

"Well, yeah, and both of _them _broke up with _me_. That right there should tell you something about my expertise."

"Here comes Weaver," Jerry sputtered between swallows.

"You'd think there would be some evil klunky music playing in the background when she got within ten yards of the department," Susan mumbled. "It would only be right."

"Come on gals," Abby secreted over her shoulder, "let's go make up a catheter snafu in the supply closet to manage."

The _creak _and _thwup _of her crutch cleared the halls as she approached the admit desk. "Kovac and Carter?" Weaver bellowed following Jerry's more than happy to please pointed finger to the lounge.

The three women took a moment to gather themselves in the quiet of the supply closet far, far away from Kerry Weaver's accusing eye. With Susan safely parked on top of a step stool and Abby leaning up against the closed door, Sam got to work sorting the catheters.

"What are you _doing_?" Susan asked while trying not to laugh.

"You said that…," Sam wised up as she noticed the shoulders of both women shaking with laughter. "Okay. I get it."

"I can't stay long, girls," Susan announced, pulling a candy bar from her lab coat pocket. "There are med students on the loose out there."

"And I'm one of them." The temptation was too much for Abby as she reached for the chocolate. "Did you bring enough to share with everybody, little Susie?"

"You bet." Susan reached in and pulled out two more, passing them to her comrades in hiding. "So spill the beans, Nurse Sam. Does Dr. Kovac have some serious competition from Artie?"

"Stop it. He's a nice guy. Nicer than that creep, Bobby." The Milky Way melted in her mouth as she indulged in the impromptu sugar fix. "So you two knew Luka and Carter before they went to Africa. Were they always this close?"

"Ha!" Abby nearly choked on her treat. "Ah… no. They had their differences."

"What changed that?"

"Well, when they came back from their first trip there, they had shared a horrible experience," Susan explained. "We all knew in general what had happened, but I'm sure there's more to the story."

"What about this last time?" Sam asked while nibbling away at the outer edges of the chocolate bar. "They went to Africa and set up a refuge camp and clinic. I assume Carter came back to fill the position opened up when Romano died and Weaver moved up."

"Actually, the search for that spot didn't even materialize until _after _they came back." Susan wished she had a bottle of water. "Carter came back here, Luka signed on with the moonlighting service and they just sort of fell into place, I guess."

"Sam's right," Abby interjected. "I know they _said _that they left Uganda only after they had established the camp and turned it over to permanent staff, but I can't help think that they left something out."

Sam sighed as she walked over to the door. "Well, I don't have much to go on, and Luka won't say much about either trip. But he and Carter sometimes exchange looks or talk in a corner. It just bugs me."

"Don't let it." Susan held the door for Abby and her new stack of charts. "When guys want to talk, they do it in code. Just be on the look out for it. Chuck's a pro."

"_Damn it, Bobby_!" Abby shouted as her charts flew over the trash bin being wheeled down the hall by the slacker.

Sam watched as Carter caught the end of a news report on the television, seemed to lose a little of his coloring, then traded some words in private with Luka before going into an exam room.

"Sam."

Luka remained seated at the computer reading his e-mails. Lost in thought, Sam watched from a distance as a spectator, glad that when he stood to accompany the paramedics with a new patient into a trauma room that he didn't see her staring at him.

"Sam." Kerry tapped her crutch against the supply room door that Sam was holding open for no reason. "Do me a favor and make sure that Dr. Kovac calls this number. Stand over his shoulder if you have to. Tell him I'll make it worth his while - give the agency a call and arrange for him to have the time off. I'm sure she would more than appreciate it."

Kerry shoved a piece of pink paper in Sam's hand before walking to the elevators, coat in hand. The paper had been scrunched up, then smoothed out again, and only had a phone number and name. Sam looked at it and wondered. She had heard the name before, or read it. She wasn't sure. As Carter came out of the exam room, she looked at the paper again.

"Hey, Sam - you're still here." Carter leaned against the desk across from her and put pen to chart. "Because I owe you for fixing me up with the unibrow chick from radiology with severe halitosis, I'm going to let you discharge this very fine patient before you go home."

"Uh-oh, please don't tell me it's a code brown."

"Would I do that to you?"

Sam tilted her head with a '_you're kidding me' _look.

"Right. Was that just yesterday? Hmmm." Carter returned his attention to the patient's chart as he unsuccessfully stifled a friendly giggle. "Okay then, Acetaminophen 650mg q 6 h as needed. I gave him a script for Gent otic drops. Reinforce the desire _not _to insert foreign objects into the ear canal. Standard discharge instructions and follow up with primary physician. But first, get a psych consult down here."

Sam's ears perked up and pulled her attention to the exam room door where a man's voice lingered on one particular line of a song, over and over again. "_The sun'll come out, tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow… - NO… it's three part, not two. Now, again._"

"Annie," she asked, "he's singing Annie?"

"Seems the little people inside his ear drums are refusing to sing in harmony." Carter was enjoying watching Sam discover this prize patient for the first time. "For an encore he does Barbra Streisand." The patient load was infinite and Carter was anxious to reduce the double spacing on the board back to normal before the night was out. "Let's help him out with that, shall we? Call Psych." Handing the chart to Sam, he turned and walked back towards Admitting.

"Carter," Sam called out hoping to catch his attention as he walked away. "Who is Colleen Reilly?"

With that, Carter stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned to Sam.


	2. Chapter 2 Dreams of the Past

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE & SEEK  
Sequel to Pocket Change and Pocket Change 2: A Game of Cards  
by Sharon R.**

**  
CHAPTER TWO  
**

"Carter," Sam called out hoping to catch his attention as he walked away. "Who is Colleen Reilly?"

With that, Carter stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned to Sam. Because of what he and Luka had been through together in Africa, particularly the event of five months previous, there was a comfort level in their thoughts being kept between the two. They both had standard responses to inquiries, standard reactions and felt they handled it quite expertly - in a standard kind of way. Carter kept to himself, seeking Luka out only when needed. He assumed that Luka had shared his thoughts and feelings with Sam who he had become close to in the last several weeks. But he knew that _that _particular part of Africa had _never _been discussed. Even the two doctors rarely talked about it... or rather, _her_.

"Carter?"

Carter fidgeted as he looked around for something to take his attention away. The desk was quiet, the trauma and exam rooms all filled with patients and staff. If only a 9-1-1 came in the ambulance bay. Now. **NOW**.

"Who is this Colleen J. Reilly?"

"Not now," he whispered to himself, evidently loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Hmm? What?" She moved closer to Carter. "Was she on staff at the camp in Africa?"

"Not now," he said louder, clearing his throat. "I've got, ah, students to check up on."

"Pratt's got them tonight."

Carter finally turned around and faced Sam. "I really do have a lot of things to do. Charts and… Look, I'd be glad to explain… actually talk to you…, but now's just not a good time. Later, okay? I _really _would love to tell you all about the refugee camp…"

He tried in vain to seem nonchalant about the subject, then walked away and around the corner before Sam could ask him anything else. Luckily, he attached himself to Susan as she walked out the door.

"Where's Luka?"

"With a trauma, I think." Susan stopped in the ambulance bay to put her knit hat on. "Don't really care. I am exhausted. You two get Attending duties for the rest of the night. I have popcorn, a Twilight Zone marathon and a neglected boyfriend waiting for me at home. I think I get the better end of the deal." She fumbled with her purse as she dug around for her car keys. "Can you believe this weather? It's April for Gods sake."

"Yeah, well," Carter looked at his feet as they shuffled the dusting of snow back and forth, "supposed to warm up soon, I guess."

"Carter, aren't you cold?"

"You bet."

"Okay, who are you avoiding?"

"No one, really."

"Uh-huh. Look, it's probably none of my business, but whatever it is you and Luka are hiding from Sam - well, you need to talk to her about it. Whatever it is that happened in Africa - a drunken night, voodoo curse, another woman," Susan laughed, "hell, even if you guys went on a killing spree - you need to stop whispering about it behind her back. It can give a girl a complex…"

"You're right," Carter interrupted as he stuffed his nervous hands in his scrub pockets. "It's none of your business."

The cold night did little to assuage the uneasy atmosphere that drifted between Susan and Carter.

"I… I'm sorry, Susan. It's just that…" he drifted off without finishing his thought.

"You look tired, John," she countered, still pissed at his verbal lashing.

"So I've been told."

"Everything Okay?"

"Yup."

"How come we don't talk anymore?"

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

"Hmmm. You can probably go back inside now. I've stalled you long enough."

Carter nodded, totally cognizant of the fact that he just dissed one of his few friends. With his head lowered away from the chilly wind, he just came short of bowling into Abby who was exiting the ER into the ambulance bay.

"Excuse me… I think," she got out as she spun around.

"Something's going on with him and Luka." Susan flipped the collar of her wool coat up to cover the back of her neck before heading off.

"Something's **_been _**going on with those two ever since they got back," Abby sputtered in the chilly air, putting on exam gloves. "Like two little boys in a clubhouse."

"He-Man-Woman-Haters Club?"

"Yeah, except which one is Alfalfa?" Abby laughed as she clapped her gloved hands together to keep warm.

"That's debatable. Got a trauma coming in?"

"Nothing exciting. Another bar fight."

"Well, good luck with that. And don't be afraid to call Security. And Abby," Susan moved in closer as a few more hospital staff stepped outside, "see if you can get Carter and Luka to take a step back and get some rest between traumas."

"You forget, I'm just a student. I'll see what I can do."

Back in the ER, Carter glanced to his left and saw Luka in Trauma-1 supervising a code: Malik bagging the intubated patient as Neela performed CPR. Pratt was at the board, everyone else absorbed in whatever it was they were doing, and the propped open door of the empty lounge beckoned for Carter. But before he could even make that right turn…

"Dr. Carter," Jerry caught him, "got a trauma coming in. ETA five to ten."

"What is it?" He combed his hair back with his fingers and let out a tired sigh.

"Eighteen year old gymnast versus a 400 pound bouncer. Facial trauma and broken hand. Ouch."

"Pratt?"

"I got it," the young resident announced putting a chart back in the rack. "Beats the clown with bleeding piles."

"Pratt," Carter put on his teaching voice as he walked by on the way to the lounge, "you really shouldn't be disrespecting the patients, especially in front of the students."

"No, the dude is really a clown. You know - white face, red nose, big floppy shoes."

"With piles…"

"Yeah, with big, nasty… clown piles."

"Thanks for sharing." Carter grimaced. "I hate clowns," he mumbled as he walked into the darkened lounge and kicked the stopper out from under the door so that it would close behind him. Peace and quiet. Even the coffee pot was full - just finishing a new brew.

He was halfway to his locker when he spotted Sam, dressed in her wool coat, hat, gloves and scarf, sitting on the windowsill looking out at the left over snowflakes floating to the street below. Carter had found Luka in the same spot earlier contemplating his past and maybe even his future. The streetlight cast a haze around her long curly locks of hair almost like a halo. She was so lost in thought, he couldn't help but sneak up and park himself directly behind her ear.

"Penny for your…"

Sam startled and gasped at Carter's voice.

"… thoughts."

"That's not very nice," she jokingly gave back, a diminutive smile crossing her face.

"Yeah, well, someone had to do it." Carter raised his eyebrows playfully as he poured a cup of coffee. "Been busy, I see."

"Made a new pot. That last one was putrid."

"I like my coffee strong."

"Strong is one thing, but coffee that has a mind of its own is another."

Carter's coffee had a reputation and the staff had a silent pact to always make sure the pot was fresh and full so as not to let him play barista.

"Waiting for Luka?" he surmised.

"You, actually. I wanted to let you know that I handed my patients off to Yosh."

"Hmm?"

"My shift ended at eleven. You wanted to know about Harold. I got him a bed on 3B but they're running late with shift change. They'll call down for transport when report is finished. Best I could do."

"Thanks."

The silence gave away their thoughts. She knew she had to ask. He knew it was coming.

"About that woman I asked you about…"

"Yeah." Carter decided the only way to put an end to the inquiry was to give her matter-of-fact answers with little to question. "She was a photojournalist. Her name probably rang a bell with you. She was kind of famous."

"Was?"

"Um… yeah. She, ah, died… after doing a story on the camp." Carter looked into his coffee mug, at the clock, his watch, the Cure Autism Now poster on the wall… anywhere but at Sam.

"Okay, why would you and Luka be so secretive about that?"

"I asked Luka not to talk about her," he lied. It was actually a mutual need to keep anything and everything about Colleen Reilly in their tightly locked heads. "She and I had a… thing…" Not so much a lie there. Just a twist. "And… it really is nothing." That's when he ventured into big time cattle rustling lies and hoped that her bullshit meter wasn't calibrated properly.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." A change of direction was in order. "Look Sam, any time you want to know about the refuge camp, or about the program, come see me. I can get you all kinds of literature and stuff. But, ah, break time's over, I guess. Gotta get back to work." Carter was a pro at this. He had figured out how to get around a deep discussion with therapists, AA folks, and even himself by cutting and running.

"Yeah - I've got to get home and relieve Mrs. Crocker. Great babysitter, but doesn't come cheap once midnight hits."

Both Carter and Sam walked out of the lounge and past the Admit desk at the same time before veering off in different directions. Yosh and Pratt were restraining the drunk gymnast on the gurney as Sam walked toward the ambulance bay doors.

"Sam, I know you're off, but could you take this death kit into Trauma-1?" Yosh was asking while on the move. "I think they're going to need it and I used the last one."

"I've got it." Carter was on top of things. "You need to get home to Alex." The death kit was snatched up, and before Sam could even answer Yosh, Carter was in the trauma room.

"... pressers aren't working and we've maxed out the epi," Luka listed out loud to the staff consisting of nurses, med students and residents. "Is there anything else someone would like to try?" The room remained quiet except for the hum of the machines and exertion of the chest compressions made by the student who had taken Neela's place. "Is everyone on board with calling this?" Luka was careful to look around the room and make eye contact with all who was involved with the code. "Okay then, time of death… 23:26. Thank you everyone."

"Want me to call Social Services for the family?" Carter asked.

"No. No family. She was living at a shelter - had a long life."

"Listen," Carter spoke quietly as the two backed into a corner to give the staff room to work, "you've never mentioned Colleen to Sam, right?" Luka stopped what he was doing and suddenly focused only on Carter. "Somehow, Kerry got to her with that phone message about Colleen. I couldn't avoid her all night. Finally told her the bare minimum -that she was a photojournalist who covered the PCRC. And…"

"And…?"

"And that she died after doing a story on the camp." There. He told Luka only the bare minimum as well.

The two doctors halted their strained conversation just long enough for Luka to sign some papers handed to him by the nurse, not to mention notice Sam standing at the doors to the ambulance bay watching the conversation from afar.

"Leave it to Weaver to open a can of worms and walk away," Luka bemoaned.

"I don't think I left the subject open. Minimalized it as much as I could."

"Minimalized?" Luka laughed. "You've been watching Dr. Phil again."

"Well, yeah. What can I say? It's good for the soul."

Luka noticed Carter's unease that had crept in gradually as the evening wore on. Even through his good natured humor. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Carter attempted a lame smile and shook his head, but Luka saw through it.

"I'll keep asking until you tell me, you know."

"Just that… Weaver and that note…" Carter fumbled as he tried to figure out for himself why he felt so off. "… that news report…"

"What news report?" Luka crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back against the wall as they both brought their voices down another level in their secrecy.

"On CNN - about our friend Jules, and this other guy who helped me out while I was looking for you. Actually pointed me right to you. Seems he's taken Jules' place in the hierarchy of rebels."

"Want to tell me about him?"

"Not really." There was a lot Carter didn't want to share with Luka about Emile, and especially the details regarding Colleen. He knew the basics. That was enough. "All this stuff… the things that happened and all… I thought they were all neatly filed away."

"Doesn't take much to trigger those memories. They can really take over your senses."

"Guess so."

Sam watched as Luka and Carter talked quietly together in the corner of the trauma room while the nursing staff prepared the patient's body for transfer to the morgue. And she knew Luka saw her watching. It wasn't the first time.

"Yoohoo - I said, are you leaving?" Abby waved her hand in front of Sam's eyes to break her concentration.

"Um, yeah. Just wanted to say good-bye to Luka."

Both men exited the trauma room and walked over to the women, who tried to look as though they were talking about other things.

"Spying are we?" Carter asked as he playfully elbowed Abby.

"Why? Do you feel like you're being watched? Get these feelings of paranoia often? Are there… _voices_?" Abby asked teasingly.

"Ha, ha," Carter turned to go back to the Admit desk. "See you Sam. Thanks for your help with that patient."

Luka tapped his shoulder just before Carter could get too far. "About those… _worms_… let me know if I can help."

"Sure."

"Hmm. Code," Sam remarked to Abby. "They're doing it again."

"Speaking of helping out, Luka," Abby offered, "Susan wanted me to try and convince you and Carter to get some rest between traumas tonight."

Luka rolled his eyes as he moved in closer to feel Sam's warmth. "Yes, mother."

A rush of cold air accompanied paramedics and a patient propped up on a gurney as the bay doors flew open. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Abby moaned as she escorted the new arrivals into the ER.

"After tonight, I'm off until Monday." Luka walked Sam outside, wrapping his arms around her once they were out of sight of prying eyes. "How about you?"

"Not so lucky. I have to be back here tomorrow morning to cover that student nurses' seminar postponed from last night."

Luka groaned as he nuzzled her hair and tenderly pecked her cheek. "Well, then, I'll take advantage of the day tomorrow and sleep it away. Then we can find something to do tomorrow night after Alex goes to bed."

"He's sleeping over at Josh's house."

"Even better. We won't have to worry about him walking in on …" Luka playfully teased Sam's lips, "… something."

Secure in their embrace, smiling and kissing their goodnights, Sam looked at her watch and reluctantly broke away from the snuggle. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

They walked away from each other - Sam towards the street, Luka into the ER - but still managed to turn their heads one more time to catch sight of one another. Sam's hair blew into her face, catching on her mouth. Luka, his head almost bashfully tipped down, grinned sheepishly.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Luka was obviously the delivery boy chosen by lottery as he carried a tray of specialty coffees from across the street. "Yours is the one on my left. Double Latte Macchiato. We'll be pulling you off the ceiling in short time." Abby ceased leaning against the window looking into the darkened exam-2 from the adjoining trauma room and took her caffeine fix. "What are you doing?" Luka asked again.

"Watching him sleep." Abby nodded towards a figure stretched out on a bed, the blinds to the corridor drawn. "Since when has Carter been a restless sleeper?"

Luka leaned in closer to the window to get a better look. Carter was tossing from his side to his back, rubbing his face with his hands and mumbling.

"That's some dream he's having," she remarked.

Luka remained silent as he watched Carter.

"Is this a stabbing thing?"

"Hmm?" Luka was only half paying attention to Abby as he watched Carter's movements.

"Do you think he's having dreams still about the stabbing?"

"No," he spoke almost to himself, "it's not that." Luka pushed the tray into Abby's hands and slowly opened the door into exam-2. "I've got this," he rebuffed her as she started to follow him. "It's okay. He's been working extra shifts for Chen, and we're down a resident with Gallant gone. He's just over tired."

Luka was careful to shut the door behind him and close that last blind that had allowed Abby and him to see Carter. The room was eerily quiet, the whole department was. Carter jolted slightly and raised his hand to scratch at his face. By the looks of the marks on his neck and cheek it appeared as though he had been doing this for a while. His mumbles were unintelligible, but he seemed to gasp between words and lick at his lips as though parched. Luka knew just where he was and didn't want to wake him too quickly.

"Carter." He quietly leaned into his ear and gently laid a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder. "John." As Luka carefully took Carter's hand and guided it away from his scratched neck, Carter's eyes flew open.

"_The flies…" _he gasped as he tightly grabbed Luka's wrist.

"No, no flies here." Luka's voice was calm. "You need to wake up, John."

As Carter recognized his surroundings, he bolted up right and swung his legs over the side of the gurney. "Trauma coming in?"

"No. It's almost 5 o'clock. I'm sending you home early. Nothing's going on." Carter sat still as he looked at his watch and took in what he was hearing, still waking up. "Thought you didn't dream."

"I don't."

"You've sweat completely through your scrubs. Didn't look like it was a very pleasant dream."

Carter cleared his throat and got up, stretching the tight muscles in his back. "Actually, I should be sending _you _home. You're the moonlighter."

"Nah. We're not the only Attendings here. It just looks like it. Go on. But I don't want you driving all the way out to that house." Luka pulled his key chain from his pocket and took one key off handing it to Carter. "Here, go sack out on my sofa. It's just a few blocks away."

Carter was glad that he had taken Luka up on his offer to crash at his apartment. Luckily the streets at five in the morning weren't tied up, which gave him some measure of comfort as he accidentally blew one light and then jumped the curb when he parked in front of the building. _Too many double shifts_, he thought as he climbed the stairs. _Have to put a fire under Kerry's ass to get replacements for Gallant and Chen_.

His feet felt like lead as he plodded over to Luka's leather sofa, kicked his shoes off, and fell face down onto the cushions. The cold surface momentarily awakened him, but by his third breath he was long gone into the depths of sleep where he resumed his tossing and turning of previous.

_Her hair hung in thick strands of curls, the ends bouncing on her pale white shoulders as she sat on the bed, pulling him down with her as the draped netting hanging from above framed their intertwined bodies. The heat between them joined their body parts and together with the accumulating sweat, acted as an adhesive._

_But there was almost a feeling of being watched. Being directed._

_The taste of sweet apple juice minced between their mouths as she suckled on his lips one at a time, then his tongue. She mercilessly teased him as she flung her head back laughing, her red hair cascading down her now naked back, his eager mouth landing on her elusively delicate throat. Eventually he grabbed at the back of her neck and pulled her into him, not allowing her to manipulate the games of passion she so expertly played._

**"**_**I thank you for coming to liberate me …"** _

_The man's thick accent and the spit laden air being sucked between his teeth grated on him. His shoulder was gripped - a firm hand - and he was thrown to the ground._

**"_I thank you…"_**


	3. Chapter 3 Silence Leads to Sadness

_**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE SEEK  
by Sharon R.**_

_**Chapter Three**_

The walk from the EL to Luka's apartment was only two blocks, but the sudden downpour melting away the mysteriously accumulated April snow had made the trek most unpleasant for Sam both as it pattered down on her old broken umbrella and created a muck of slush to maneuver around.. Her car was in the shop - again, at least for the morning. Taking the EL wasn't so bad. She got an early start hoping to catch Luka for a few minutes before he crawled into bed after the night shift. From under the umbrella she spied him driving up the street looking for a parking spot and waved at him with her empty Starbucks cup.

"I have to turn around and park on the other side of the street," he called out to her from the open passenger side window while he double parked. Reaching in his glove box, he took out a key and passed it to her. "Let yourself in. Carter's sleeping on the sofa, so don't be surprised."

The door to the loft apartment was huge - an old warehouse entry. Sam had to put everything down on the floor just to free up both hands to open it, but once unlocked it glided quietly on its runners. She left the door wide open for Luka and quickly took off her wet shoes so as not to slip on the poured cement floors. Next off was her coat which she laid over one of the kitchen bar stools. It was then that she saw Carter on the leather sofa, asleep with his back to her. He mumbled and moved a little - just enough to make her think he was waking up. _A perfect opportunity to get him back for last night's shift_, she thought with a mischievous grin.

Sam tip-toed into the living room and carefully leaned over the sleeping doctor. As her wavy long hair spilled onto his face, she giggled, then whispered in his ear hoping to startle him as he had done to her in the lounge.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Without much warning, Carter flipped onto his back and, roughly grabbing her by the back of the neck, pulled her into his face, planting his lips on hers. Caught completely off guard, Sam fell to her knees and was unable to get any leverage to pull herself free from Carter's grinding lips. Her eyes bugged out, moans escaped between breaths she was barely able to suck in and she was scared. This was a man who was a friend of Luka's. Someone she had welcomed into her life away from the hospital as one would a brother-in-law.

Suddenly from nowhere, Luka's arm reached out and pulled Sam free, throwing Carter to the floor in the process. No sooner was Sam back on her feet than Carter had grabbed Luka and forcefully pinned him on his back - one hand on his throat.

"**Carter…"**

His eyes were open, but glazed. And although he seemed to be seething with anger, part of him was devoid of emotion.

"_I think you…" _Luka sputtered between gasps.

"_I think you… **need to… wake… up**_."

Carter's grip eased as his lids fluttered, eyes glanced around at the surroundings and then back down at Luka's reddened face. He gasped and seemed to lose a breath or two before chaotically moving off of Luka and sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest.

"I…what…," he was truly without words as he tried to piece together what had gotten him to that point. "Luka, I'm sorry. I don't know why…"

Luka looked up at Sam who had moved back as far as she could against the kitchen counter. Carter had apologized to Luka, but seemed unaware of what had ultimately led to their wrestling match on the floor. Sam was hurt. Tears stung her eyes as she fought to not let them fall down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Carter asked as he noticed the welts forming on Luka's neck.

"Yeah. **I'm** fine." He was hoping Carter would remember Sam's involvement and he wouldn't have to tell him. He was hoping for Carter's benefit as well as Sam's. But the blank look on Carter's face said it all.

Carter only noticed Sam when Luka stood up and walked towards the kitchen. She was rushing to put her coat on while Luka reached out to her and spoke quietly so that Carter couldn't hear them. As Sam turned to walk to the door, Carter heard just one thing:

"_He needs help, Luka."_

"No, Sam," Carter pleaded as he got to his feet, "really, I'm fine. It was just a dream and Luka happened to interrupt it at the wrong time. It was just a dream…"

"Was it?" The fright had now converted to anger as she threw a look at Luka and walked out.

"Sam?" Luka rushed after her, motioning with his hand to Carter to stay put. He had to move quickly to keep up with her all the way down to the sidewalk. "Sam - please."

Luka reached out and grabbed a corner of her coat left unbuttoned and flying in the gust of wind. She'd left her umbrella outside Luka's door and didn't really care if she got wet or not. Wet she was, as the warming air finally brought springtime back to Chicago, and the Midwest rains down on the two of them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, knowing she wasn't. It was a stupid thing to ask, but it's all he could think of at the moment.

"What do _you _think?" She pushed her wet locks from her face and stared at Luka, wondering… just wondering.

"I'm sorry. I don't think John knows what happened. I really don't." Sam stood and waited, just waited for an explanation that would satisfy her. Luka pulled her coat closed to keep her warm and drew her closer to him by the lapels before wrapping his arms around her. "He's been working double shifts, he's overtired, and… and yesterday things from his past kind of fell on him all at once."

"What kind of dream makes someone do that, Luka?" Looking up at his face, she couldn't miss, just in her peripheral vision, Carter's face as he watched the two of them from the window. "And he looked like he wanted to kill you."

"Not me," Luka answered as he turned his head to see what Sam was looking at. "He thought I was someone else." As the rains charged down harder, Luka moved them under the awning of the vacant business next door.

"The same person he thought he was kissing?"

Luka laughed a little at the thought. "No, I think the dream was about two different people, both who caused him a lot of pain."

"Yeah, well…" Sam closed her eyes as she felt the warmth of Luka's lips as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I have to get to work."

"I'll talk to him."

Sam had taken a step or two away, then paused. "I don't know what the two of you are hiding, but it's obviously not working." She watched as Luka sighed almost a confession. "I know Carter is somewhat alone. He's not seeing anyone and his family is a lost cause. But _you have someone _you can talk to. I just wish you could trust me." And then quieter, "I'm not sure if I know you anymore."

"It's not that we're hiding anything that has anything to do with you. I do trust you, Sam. I'm just not ready to talk about it."

"But you do talk to Carter about it."

"No… actually, I don't." His hand lingered in hers as she pulled away. "We'll talk tonight, okay? Call me, please."

"Clear it with Carter first. Get your stories straight." Sam roughly pulled her hand away from Luka's and buttoned her coat as she stepped back away from him. "By all means, Luka, make sure Carter hasn't been traumatized by his dream. I've had enough."

Carter moved to the window and saw Luka and Sam standing in the rain below. Certainly looked like a heated conversation. He watched them talk, Luka move closer to her, then Sam's eyes as they reached up to the window. Taking a step back, he failed to move quick enough to avoid Luka seeing him. Was Luka telling Sam about Jules? About that night outside the house? The same night the world knows that he was mysteriously killed?

Combing his hair back with his fingers, Carter set out to get his ass out of there as fast as he could. He scrambled to get his shoes on but could only find one - the other one lost in the melee next to the sofa. He found his coat and managed to get that on before going back to the sofa to resume the shoe search.

"What are you trying to run away from?" Luka asked as he stood in the doorway.

"Nothing. I should leave."

"It's okay. She's gone."

Carter was exasperated and flopped himself back onto the sofa, minus one shoe. "If you want me to talk to her…"

"No, you've already put enough ideas in her head."

"About Colleen? What was I supposed to do? She asked me. I never even connected the two of you."

Luka finally shut the large door and quietly made his way to the kitchen where he took a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and drank from it, finishing its contents and roughly tossing the empty box in the trash can next to the counter.

"How is it you always manage to find your way to my women…"

"That's ridiculous, Luka. That's not -"

" - No?" Luka shouted slamming the palms of his hands on the counter. "_Then what was it you were doing with Sam? Hmm- "_

" - _I didn't do** anything **with Sam_."

The two were talking on top of each other without the benefit of listening, draining what patience they had left in their sleep deprived sates. The pendulum on the clock hanging above the unused fireplace tocked rhythmically in a syncopation that mirrored their pounding and angered heart beats as they stared through each others eyes. Finally, Carter turned away from Luka's incriminating glare long enough to spy his missing shoe under the side table.

"Thanks for the sofa," he chided almost to himself as he grabbed his jacket and briskly walked out.

* * *

He'd slept on and off all day, completely missing the rest of daylight. The rain slipped from the rooftop of the Carter mansion as he lay in his bed - alone - as usual. His head throbbed from the erratic work schedule he had been keeping. Night shift, day shift, half shift, double shift - his body no longer knew what to expect and was beginning to rebel as a result of it.

So much had been moved out of the mansion since the eldest Carters' deaths that even bare feet walking over the marble or hardwood floors echoed like the tiled chambers of a subway system. John Truman Carter the Third padded down the staircase clad in his scrub pants to the only room yet untouched: his grandfather's study. Although the rest of the house had an innate chill to it, this room held its warmth from memories of past.

Flipping on the light, Carter was enveloped in the smell of the leather bound books, of the aged parquet hardwood floor worn and water stained in spots, and antiquated hunter green silk and cotton crimson damask drapes that reached from the top of the ten foot high windows down below the large sills to where they puddled on the rustic floors. This was the room his grandfather would proudly, yet secretly, tell him was reserved for the gentlemen-folk of the house. His desk was staged properly at the opposite end of the room facing the large doorway so that the elder Carter could properly greet guests. To the right was the small mahogany bar with aged scotch and brandy still decantered. Etched Harvard Business School glasses twinkled in the glow of the recessed lighting overhead as though awaiting company. From the day he turned eighteen, his grandfather always offered him a drink when Carter came in the room. Even after his fight with his drug addiction. They never did get that part of the program. It was the thought that count.

The raised lettering and oft ragged edges of the old books felt the same as they did fifteen years ago as Carter walked down the length of the library, his hand dragging along the book ends like a child with a stick against a picket fence. Occasionally, old unbound pages peaked out of the neatly stacked manuscripts and poked the ridges of his fingers as though scolding him for soiling treasured books with his hands. In the moment it took for him to blink - just that split second - he could smell his grandfather's pipe tobacco and hear the sound that he made as he puffed in the pungent essence of smoked cherry wood. Perhaps, he thought as he stopped abruptly at the end of the bookcase, perhaps if he turned around very slowly he would even see his grandfather at the desk, pipe propped in his mouth, proudly wearing his brown smoking jacket with gold lapels, his reading glasses pushed to the end of his nose as he entranced himself in one of his treasured books. Perhaps. But he knew.

The room had barely been touched since the old man suffered a heart attack while on the riding lawn mower. Carter chuckled as he pictured his grandfather making off with the John Deere as the Spanish speaking gardener scolded him in the chase, all to his grandmother's apparent chagrin, although she secretly delighted in her husband's occasional antics with the mower. That is, until that last day.

"At least you died having fun," Carter remarked to the portrait of the elder hanging over the grand fireplace.

One book sitting on the corner of the desk, properly dusted weekly since that day, caught Carter's eye. A book of quotations - a favorite. Their little game he had grown up with, one reciting quotations while trying to stump the other as he guessed the attribution, was not just a way to pass the time. The book was worn, pages turned down at the corner of much loved or maybe mysterious quotes. Time was taken to carefully study the words of those who had made history. And a few chapters broken at the binding with overuse and appreciation.

**Winston Churchill, 1874-1965, British Statesman, Prime Minister **

The book fell open to Churchill's small section - his grandfather's favorite. One entry in particular was underlined and starred at each end:

_**I am ready to meet my maker, but whether my maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.**_

That was one quote that never made it into the game, but it gave Carter a smile nonetheless. Inserted into pages of the book a piece of folded paper fell out onto the desk. Before putting it back, Carter read the top of the paper, and in his grandfather's elegant penmanship was:

_**Quotes, Pres. Jimmy Carter  
**__**Same name  
**__**Democrat, but still worthy  
**_

Then:

_**America did not invent human rights. In a very real sense human rights invented America** -Pres. Carter_

The man was livid when his grandson registered in the Democratic party. He even halted the game for a year while he adjusted to the new quirk of the family, but it eventually resumed. For old time sake, Carter closed the book, then opened to a random page and pointed. Opening his eyes he read the quote aloud, as he would have done had his grandfather been sitting across from him.

_**Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death. -**Jean Jacques Rousseau 1712-1778, Swiss Political Philosopher, Educationist, Essayist _

He needed to talk to someone, anyone.

The house phone rang - he let it go. He'd heard it ring all day and ignored it even though he knew the staff was off. His cell phone was his lifeline to the world, and even that he ignored most of the time. It was rare to hear the Carter Mansion's phone ring, and although it wasn't out of the question for the few remaining staff to receive calls, it was rare for them to be called at the main house.

"Dr. John," Emily, the cook, spoke as she walked into the unusually occupied library wrapped in her bathrobe, "the telephone is for you."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't give a name. Want me to take a message?"

"No, I'll take it in here." He waited for her to leave before he reached behind where he was sitting on top of the desk and picked up the old fashioned, corded phone. "Hello, this is John Carter." He suspected it to be one of the annoying attorneys from the Foundation. Either that or that bean counter, Norman Tyson.

"Hey, it's me."

Startled, Carter dropped the book back on to the desk and stood up. This was the last person he thought would call him.

* * *

Three glasses. All three lined up in front of him. All filled about a quarter of the way with deep, rich, choking Loza - his favorite Croatian grappa. Luka leaned on his kitchen island countertop and looked at the trio very closely before downing each successively - one, two, three - slapping each glass back onto the granite counter before picking up the next. She hadn't called. He checked and re-checked his voice mail. Even left his door wide open just in case. How was it that he fell for such strong women?

Three more. Pour one, pour two, pour three. Line them up. Nice and straight. _Now, these three_, he thought, _need to be dedicated to women_.

"Are you just beginning?" Carter was leaning against the door frame watching Luka methodically pour his booze into the tumblers one at a time. "Or has this been going on for a while?"

He leaned over the glasses again, this time raising only his eyes darkly towards Carter. "I'm drinking to the women in my life who have left me. Perhaps you should join me," he slurred. "Danijella. My first love. Mother of my children. Stolen by the bombs of war." Luka closed his eyes in reverence before lifting his glass and downing it with ease.

Carter stepped inside the apartment and removed his jacket knowing he'd be staying a while. Luka took his now empty glass and filled it again, pushing it across the counter towards Carter who ignored the offer.

"Second - Abby. She thought of you while I made love to her. But you knew that." Spilling a drop down his chin, Luka, again, comfortably poured the second shot down his throat.

"Nicole - Let's not forget her. Did she have a miscarriage? An abortion? I'll never know. Obviously _I_ was the last to know - or not." He didn't even taste the potent plum brandy anymore.

Carter could do nothing but be a reluctant spectator and take Luka's wounding words with the provoking and substantive effect that they were given.

"Ah - now we get to Colleen. My guess is that you were dreaming about her this morning, yes? Dreaming about how you had her at the camp while I was away after I was nearly killed. Huh?" Luka looked around and saw that his glasses were empty and reached for the half empty bottle instead, leaving Carter's untouched glass where it stood. "Well, for this we deserve a grand toast. One deserving of someone who screwed both of us. Right?"

Luka raised the bottle high above his head in jest, then took a healthy, yet sloppy gulp, as he laughed and continued on his tirade. "One who deceived better than Abby or Nicole." He walked over to where Carter had parked himself on the other side of the island, his fiery breath punctuating his words as he maliciously inched closer and closer to Carter's ear. "One who used _me_, but really wanted _you -_"

"She used both of us. Everyone." Carter's demeanor was quiet as he tried to bring rational thinking into the one sided conversation.

Luka - not hearing anything outside of his own voice - moved behind Carter, purposely hiding his face to make his words stand out with the hate that he intended in his stupor. "-who I gave my love to -" Another drink from the bottle, then in a whisper directly into Carter's ear from behind, "- who I had to kill, hmm? … to **save **- **your - ass**."

"That's enough," Carter finally announced as he reached for the bottle but was outwitted by Luka's longer and quicker arms.

"No, no. There's one left." It was almost a game-like atmosphere as he waited for Carter to guess the next toast-ee. "You know, Carter. Come on. Who was the last woman you interfered with? Time's ticking, my friend." Luka's eyes were glazed as he walked awkward circles around Carter.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Please, just sit down, Luka, I'll make some of my famously sturdy coffee."

"You really don't know?" Luka laughed and stumbled to a bar stool, sitting down next to Carter. "Tell me, what do you remember of your dream?"

"It was a memory, really. Jules - on the ground on that last day - taunting me. And then I saw that I was here, on top of you." He was uncomfortable with bringing any of that up, especially out loud. "It really doesn't matter."

"Oh, it _does_," Luka corrected with a bit of righteousness. "Before that. What happened before that, in your dream."

Carter shook his head, unable to - or maybe unwilling to - remember that part of his dream.

"Let me help you. Long curly hair, soft skin, succulent lips."

Carter stared ahead through the dark granite surface. "Colleen was there, yes."

"I was describing Sam."

"She… What are you getting at?"

"And in your dream… what was Colleen's role?"

"You don't want to hear this, Luka." Carter shook his head and let out a sigh as he became flustered at the thought of what Luka wanted to talk about.

"What were you and Colleen doing in your dream?"

Carter stood and adjusted his sweatshirt just to give his hands something to do. That damn glass of booze was just so close and inviting. "She was… uh, we were… I can't do this." He laughed it off nervously.

Luka simply looked up at him from his seated position on the stool and begged him with his inebriated eyes.

"That night after the ambush when Todd…," Carter paused not wanting to say the "D" word, "… and Sera was injured, when you went to Gulu with Maggie and Bob…" he had to clear his throat, then stuff those nervous hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing the glass. "I went in my room to be alone. I couldn't take it any more. The ambush, seeing that rebel again, falling from the tree, the meds, then the set-up suspicion. Luka, everyone thought I was using. Even you."

"I know," he confessed with heaviness. "Colleen was there? In your room?"

"She said she wanted to make sure I was okay. She talked… we talked… she put her arms around me when I needed it most. It had been so long since… and it just went from there."

"Went?"

"It never got as far as you think it did. Almost… but that's when I found the vial of Demerol in her pants pocket. She tried to talk her way around it and at first I believed her. She teased me, kept pulling me into her, then pushing away, but I… I couldn't."

"This morning, I think Sam must have tried to wake you, or something," Luka added, his cockiness dissipated. "When I got here you had her by the back of her neck, kissing her, not letting her go. She was scared."

Carter's eyes were wide open, his breathing more labored as he heard this for the first time. "I didn't mean to… Oh God, I thought that Jules… I mean in my dream Jules was watching us, and…"

"It's okay, John."

"No," Carter yelled, disgusted with himself, "it's not okay." Almost without thinking, Carter reached for the glass and guided it to his face. It was reflex - a weak moment. If he could just dull it…

"**Stop**," Luka shouted as he grabbed the glass of grappa away from Carter, not wanting to be the cause of a relapse. But his lack of coordination at that point did little to control the glass of liquor which spilled in its entirety down the front of Luka's shirt. The bottle, however, remained upright in his other hand and Luka took the opportunity to quench his own despair.

"Alright, that's enough," Carter announced as he grabbed the bottle and then the empty glass from Luka's other hand. "This is crazy. We are sitting on this huge secret that possibly had global implications. Promised a high ranking CIA official that we would never tell anyone. It's a secret that you'd _think _would be easy to keep. I mean, who wants to talk about that? But it's killing us, Luka. Because the more we keep it inside, the more those things that came before it haunts us. **Shit**. Luka, are you even coherent?"

"Yes, yes," he moaned annoyed at Carter's mothering. "I've been fine with what happened. I mean, it stays put -"

"Really? Good for you -"

" - I just don't want to lose Sam."

"Look, someone called me tonight. Someone I hadn't talked to in a long time, and it made me realize how fragile the tie is between two people." He paused to see if Luka was paying attention and to also monitor the man's fists, should this just not be the time for lectures. "It only takes one thing to break that tie and then you get into that 'regret' thing that Joseph kindly reminded us lasts forever." He was speaking as a friend now, while regretting his own past actions, or inactions. "Don't do something or say something because of me to Sam that you'll regret." Carter leaned across the kitchen island and put the grappa and empty glass in the small prep sink out of Luka's reach. "Stay there. I'll go get you a clean shirt." Dodging the furniture in the living area, Carter disappeared into Luka's bedroom.

His feet propped up on the top rung of the bar stool, Luka leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Now it was taking hold of him. He could drink half a bottle of grappa and feel as fresh as a daisy before it hit him all at once, or so he thought. He didn't dare sit up straight for fear he'd topple off the stool. So he remained stationary, looking rather pathetic, he assumed.

"Is this a private party?"

She stood in the doorway, her strawberry blond locks framing her pretty face. Pretty - that's the best word Luka could think of to describe Sam. Pretty. Day or night, before or after a shift, but especially as she slept.

"Hi." That's all he could muster.

Sam walked over to Luka and took advantage of the height balance the stool gave her. She was face to face with him, taking in his tired, haggard look… not to mention potent aroma. "Hope you don't plan on lighting any matches in here. _God_," she looked in the sink and took out the bottle, sniffing just once at the contents and wrinkling her brow, "it's like kerosene."

"It's grappa. Just a little Croatian cocktail."

"Moonshine, maybe." She cupped his face with her hands and looked into his dark, haunting eyes before drawing him lovingly into her neck. "I am so sorry, Luka. I know things have been difficult for you. I should have been here. But I didn't think you'd resort to drinking alone." Sam put her hand on his soaked shirt. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"_There are a lot of things I'll do for you, Luka, but your smelly laundry is not one of them_."

Sam's ears perked up as she heard the faceless man's voice emanating from Luka's bedroom.

"_I think this Bulls shirt is clean. Look, please promise me that you won't assume that I made a habit of doing things with Colleen behind your back_. Just ask me… before…" Carter had finally made it into the large living area, t-shirt in hand, to see Sam pulling away from Luka.

"Ask you what?" Sam walked backwards a comfortable two steps as she took in the scene. "I can't do this anymore, Luka."

Carter stood back, still holding the shirt, well away from the action, not sure what he should do.

"Do what?" Luka mumbled in between sighs. He knew.

"I can't have a meaningful relationship with you that comes second to your little secrets with Carter."

"You - _don't_ - **_know_**," Luka erupted, slamming his hand on the counter and unsteadily getting to his feet.

"What's going on in here?" A smaller voice came from the doorway, one that had been hiding by virtue of vertical deficiency.


	4. Chapter 4 Love Will Not Elude Us

_**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**by Sharon R._

_**Chapter Four**_

"You - _don't _- **know**," Luka erupted, slamming his hand on the counter and unsteadily getting to his feet.

"What's going on in here?" A smaller voice came from the doorway, one that had been hiding by virtue of vertical deficiency.

Luka's drunken anger dropped like a lead cannon ball when he saw Alex standing there, watching the exchange between himself and his mother. He sat back down on the stool in quiet defeat looking at Sam, hoping for her to 'mend' what the ten year old had just seen.

"Why are you shouting?"

"Get back in the car, Alex," Sam ordered as she tried to remain calm.

"I got bored out there," the boy complained.

"I should go," Carter mumbled almost apologetically as he walked by Luka and Sam, placing the clean shirt on the back of the sofa.

"So, Carter," Sam asked quietly as he passed behind her, "what you told me about this woman wasn't true, was it?" She wanted to make sure that Luka was a party to this conversation.

"It's complicated. You two should talk." Carter paused before putting his jacket on, not sure he should leave Luka with all he had to tell Sam.

Ignoring his mother, Alex walked into the apartment directly to where Luka was sitting. "You need to drink lots of water tonight before you go to bed. Then tomorrow morning, hair of the dog." The voice of… experience?

"Huh?" Luka tried to hide his bloodshot eyes and not so put together face by looking down at the floor away from the boy.

"Hair of the dog," Alex repeated. "My dad says that'll take care of the hangover."

"Oh, Christ." Sam put a hand to her forehead unconsciously rubbing the pain of her ex-husband out of there. "Alex, _please_."

"Come on, Little Man," Carter said putting his arm on the boy's shoulder, "I'll go with you and keep you company."

"I'm not little," the kid annoyingly smirked.

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

The air was thick with silence as Luka and Sam waited for the door to close behind Carter and Alex, although once alone neither one seemed ready to say the first word. Luka's head still hung down in shame, perhaps in despair as the battle inside to come to terms with what he had done five months ago raged on. What would Sam think? Could she ever trust him?

Sam leaned back against the kitchen island refusing to look at Luka. The only sound was the occasional car as it drove by and the muffled rumble of the EL a block away, but neither one could hear the exterior intrusions they each stood their silent ground. What they had built from a convenient relationship was slowly unraveling, kind of like Luka. _What am I getting into_, Sam thought. _And now Alex too?_

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," she offered.

"I had too much to drink."

_And he drinks, her mind spoke from within as she let out a sigh and stretched the anxiety from her neck._

"I'm not a drinker," he pleaded as though reading her mind. "Believe me, it's not something I do often."

"Why is it complicated?"

"Why is what complicated?"

"This secret that you and Carter have. This woman Carter said he had a relationship with… Another lie…"

"There's more to it. You don't know -"

" - **_Then tell me_**," she implored talking on top of him. "How can I be anything to you if I can't help you?"

"Sam, please, some things are just…. It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Obviously it does. I ask Carter a question about this woman and he gives me some lame ass lie, then runs to you before I can." The picture of them talking in the trauma room knowing she was watching them was fresh in her mind. "I come over here to see if you had given him hell about this morning and he's tending to your needs like a girl's best friend. Why is it so hard to confide in me?"

"**Because you weren't there that day**," he shouted as he rose to his feet, his face red with anger. Luka almost startled himself with the bravado of his tone and reverted to a more hushed voice, as if he were thinking aloud, "because you wouldn't understand."

"_What day?" _she yelled putting her hands to her head exasperated with the unending circle of non-answers. "This isn't… I can't keep doing this…"

"Sam, please. Please talk to me."

"But that's just it. You're not talking. You are making excuses and making me out to be some idiot. But you're not really talking."

It was a catch-22 as far as Luka was concerned. Keep her in the dark and he figured she'd leave him. Tell her about what happened and she'd freak out, wondering if she could sleep with a man who so easily killed his lover. To tell, or not to tell. He didn't have the answer, but he did know more grappa couldn't hurt. He stood from his bar stool and leaned over to get the bottle out of the sink. But before he could get it to his lips, his lack of balance confused his feet and he lost his footing catching his lip on the edge of the granite counter top, before landing squarely on his ass on the cold floor. The grappa, however, survived. That was two points for the booze, none for him. He got one more slug in before Sam took it from his hands.

"Well, at least the alcohol will kill any germs crawling around that fresh wound," she mumbled as she grabbed a towel to press firmly against the cut on his mouth.

Luka winced and pushed Sam's hand away, not realizing he'd even hurt himself until he saw the fresh blood on the kitchen towel.

"Sorry," she said as she gave him the towel and let him tend to his own lip. "It's not that bad. I'll get some ice."

"No," he threw out. "I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you think you can," she sighed, "but your ass couldn't even find the chair. Not so sure your legs can navigate around the kitchen at this point."

Luka got to his feet and managed to beat Sam to the freezer, throwing a few cubes of ice into the towel. "I'm fine."

"I'm just trying to help - "

" - I know…"

Some couples yell, others throw things. Sam and Luka fronted their pent up anger with intentional silence. Sam felt as though anything she said at that point would be shot down. She didn't know if she was jealous of Carter for being the one Luka confided in, or pissed at Luka for not letting her provide basic comfort for him. Either way, she wasn't about to give in and be the first to apologize… again.

Luka either couldn't, or wouldn't say anything. And he was embarrassed, in his own way, for not only his lack of action with Carter that morning, but also his impersonation of the Chicago Drunk. What to say…

"I have to get Alex to his sleep-over." Grabbing her gloves from her pocket, Sam wasted no time reaching the door.

"Wait," Luka half heartedly pleaded. "Sam… I…"

Sam stopped with her hand on the large door handle and dejectedly rested her forehead against the painted metal. "I can't talk to you now, Luka. Talking… like this, it doesn't work." With one swift pull, Sam opened the door and left, leaving Luka by himself.

Alex and Carter had parked themselves back against the side of the car - Alex refusing his mother's original request to wait for her inside the car, Carter feeling the need to at least stay with the kid until Sam got there.

"So," Carter shuffled a couple steps sideways closer to Alex, "you want to talk about anything?"

"You and my mom having an affair?"

"What?" Carter nearly choked on his own saliva. The kid didn't waste any time.

"You know. Doing the nasty. The low down."

"No, Alex. Your mother and I are co-workers. Luka's a good friend."

"So, then, you and Luka have a little something on the side?"

"**_NO!"_**

"I have an open mind. Doesn't mean I approve of it, but I won't draw and quarter you."

"Draw and… ?" Carter shook his head as he fought to keep up with the precocious boy. "Look, you walked in on a very grown up conversation between your mom and Luka. Neither one of us belonged there. I'm sure in good time…"

"Yeah, I've heard all this before. You can cut the shit and get straight to the truth. That always works. I'm not stupid. And I'm not little."

"_I've_ heard that before too."

"Hey, no one's paying you to babysit. You can take off any time."

Carter exhaled and closed his eyes momentarily as he threw his head back in frustration. "Should have kept my mouth shut," he mumbled.

"If I were you, I'd charge a five spot for that service. That's what my dad gives me. Personally, I bet you're easy and would keep your trap shut for a deuce."

"Oh, boy."

Sam already had keys in hand as she bound down the steps towards the car. "I told you to get in the car, Alex."

"So did you fix it?" Alex asked.

"Fix what?"

"The fight. You know, the yelling and stuff."

Sam rolled her eyes and opened the door for her son, ignoring his question.

"I knew it. You always ruin everything. I like Luka, not that _you _care."

"Just get in Alex. It's complicated." _Great_, she thought as she slammed the door closed. _Same shitty excuse they gave me_.

"Sam, look, I'm sorry," Carter tried to explain, chasing Sam to the driver's side of the car. "I guess I was dreaming this morning. I didn't know what I was doing. Luka was just trying to protect me."

This stopped Sam, who finally turned to Carter and spoke quietly, but directly, to him so as not to let the son with the big ears hear. "_He's _protecting _you?_ Yet I get the distinct impression that you're lying to protect _him_. Well, which one is it?"

Hesitantly, Carter gently put his hands on her shoulders and lowered his head to get her to look in his eyes. "I think in the end, it's _you _who he's protecting."

Sam furrowed her brow, confused by the ongoing riddle.

"Sam, I can't even begin to tell you everything that we went through on our trips to Africa."

"I thought this second one was just like a business trip to set up that camp."

Carter needed to do nothing more than to pause slightly as he blinked and took a breath.

"What happened in Uganda?"

"Look, Luka has to be the one to answer your questions. I'm the one having dreams. He's handling it just fine. He…" Carter looked to his right at the building and saw Luka standing at the window watching the two of them. "… just give him a chance. Okay?"

Looking at Alex moping inside the car, Sam's hardened exterior melted for just a moment. "There's more for me to consider here than just my feelings. My track record for picking the right guy really sucks. I can't get Alex's hopes up again. Or mine." Without looking back up at Carter, Sam opened her door and sat down, quickly starting the engine.

"Sam, sometimes things in the past - things that hurt - need to stay in the past. Trust Luka," Carter got out before she shut the door.

Luka watched from the window as Carter put his hands on Sam's shoulders… As Sam let _Carter _comfort her. Then she drove away. Just like that, she was gone. He watched as she got to the first light and made a right, driving out of view.

"Don't give up." Carter had taken up his former position leaning up against the large door frame. "Let her have some time." He wasn't even sure that Luka heard him from across the room. Or wanted to hear him. "That's some kid. Must be studying medieval torture methods at school."

"You told her that you were the one sleeping with Colleen?"

"Not exactly in those terms. But, yeah."

"And you didn't think it would come back and bite you in the ass?"

"I thought it would make the whole Colleen thing a moot point as far as you and Sam were concerned." Carter watched as Luka remained at the window, forehead pasted against the glass as though expecting Sam's car to drive up any minute. "Does it really matter?"

"Not really." Luka licked at his wounded lip as he finally pulled himself away from the window.

"She hit you…?"

"Ha, no. I kind of did this to myself." Luka dropped the ice pack in the sink and went back to the living area where he slumped himself onto the sofa. "Serves me right."

"She's right about me needing some help."

"What?"

"I was about two inches and 2 seconds away from joining you in your swill of pity tonight." Carter turned to leave, knowing that Luka needed to be alone. "See you Monday."

Luka very carefully folded the Bulls shirt that Carter had left over the back of the sofa. There was a reason it was the only clean shirt in the apartment. He hadn't worn it since Africa. Since he had put it on a cold and wet Colleen. And yet, he kept it.

* * *

Luka stood outside of Sam's apartment building for at least a half hour before getting up enough nerve to walk up the stairs. Pausing at the top of the stoop, he took out his cell phone and dialed Carter, partly to see if he was alright, but mostly to get a pep talk. He hadn't so much as talked to him since the previous night - not that his inebriated idiocy qualified as dignified conversation. But he knew what Carter would have said and closed the phone before he could finish dialing. At the top of the first flight of stairs he could see her lights peaking out from under the door, and when he got closer he could hear Sam and Alex talking inside. He'd knocked three times and suddenly got an urge to bolt, turned around and started to head back to the stairs. 

"Hey, it's Luka."

If it weren't for that small voice, Luka would have taken the stairs two at a time to get out of there.

"You're just in time," Alex said holding the door open, "we were just about ready to play '_Guess My Blood Sugar'_."

Reluctantly, Luka stepped in the door and joined Alex and Sam at the kitchen table.

"Come on," Alex announced, "pony up. Two bits to play."

"I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage," Luka almost meekly shared. "I don't know what you've eaten today."

"Neither does Mom. I just got home. But you're the one with the favorable handicap since you're a doctor and all."

Luka laughed as he reached in his pocket, taking out a quarter and tossing it on the table on top of Alex's.

"Come on, Mom."

Sam had stood by quietly. "I, ah, don't have a quarter."

"I'll spot you one," Alex said as he tossed a third quarter into the 'pot'. "Luka, you first. What's it going to be?" Alex had his blood glucometer set up on the table and the lancet ready to do the finger poke.

"Um, okay, I'll say an even 110."

"Mom?"

"I'm not so optimistic. Put me down for 149."

"And I'll bet on a safe 120." And with the skill of a kid who had done this four times a day for the better part of his life, he depressed the spring action lancet on the side of his finger, then squeezed a drop of blood onto the testing strip. Within a minute, the results were in. "And the winner is…" Alex always paused for dramatic affect, "… Mom. The magic number tonight is 143."

"Moms know best," she joked with him with a wink. "And I bet you also ate some stuff that you shouldn't have over at Josh's. Now, it's a school night. Let me check your insulin pump before you go to bed."

Leaving Luka alone in the small kitchen, Sam walked Alex to his room after adjusting his pump at his waist.

"You don't tuck me in anymore, Mom."

"It's my right and I'm taking advantage of it. Now give me a kiss you little monster."

Alex reluctantly kissed his mother on the cheek before climbing into bed. "Mom?"

"Hmm."

"Don't blow it. Okay?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"He's good for us, Mom."

Luka was waiting for her by the table, coat still on, his scarf dangling around his neck.

"You're a wealthier woman," he playfully gave her, pointing to the stack of three quarters in front of him.

"Taking advantage of my kid's pocket change." To keep busy, Sam gathered up a pile of Alex's clothes left on the floor. "Let's see what else is burning a hole in his pocket."

"His ticket to the gate." Luka smiled as he spoke quietly to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just something a friend once told me." Luka watched Sam as she picked up after Alex, putting away his glucometer, packing his book bag for the next morning, and putting his lunchbox on the counter. "I want to talk to you." She still moved around the kitchen. "Tell you about Colleen."

Sam ran out of things to do and finally leaned against the refrigerator waiting to see if Luka would actually say anything of substance.

"I met Colleen at the camp. She used it as a home base of sorts while she covered stories on that part of the continent. I was the one who had a relationship with her, not Carter."

"Why hide that?"

Luka shrugged as he tilted his head. "The memories are not all good. She manipulated both of us, used us. Things happened that are disturbing - things that I won't talk about and neither will Carter."

"You loved her?"

"Maybe."

"You loved her," Sam deduced appropriately and reaffirmed for Luka, for which he nodded, just slightly. "And she died?"

"Yep."

"How?"

Luka fidgeted and finally put his hands in his coat pockets to hind the trembling that was building in them. "Shot."

Sam pushed herself away from her spot and went to Luka, wrapping her arms securely around his waist and planting her head against his chest. "I'm sorry."

The two stayed that way sharing each other's warmth, until Sam finally broke away to take Luka's coat off. "Stay?" she asked.

"I can't explain everything to you about Carter. You weren't here when we got back from our first trip." Luka considered leaving it right there, but went on to see how far he could go. "What do you know?"

"Just that you two had been kidnapped," she answered uncomfortably, "and that when you got back Carter was in the hospital for a while."

"Couple weeks. He got the worst of it. What he went through was far worse than me. He ended up with terrible infections. Went home with a PICC line for a couple weeks. And a few days after he had that removed he was back here with pneumonia. What is inside his head, we've dealt with together. I'm the only one who understands. I have to be there for him, because in part he's responsible for me being here today."

"But, he's alone because he chooses to be."

"That's right."

"I've tried finding him someone to be with…"

"I've seen that," he laughed, "and it's admirable. But her four o'clock shadow was darker than mine."

"It's _five _o'clock shadow."

"Not hers."

They had moved to the sofa where Sam sat curled up in Luka's arms, he occasionally kissing the top of her head, she giving his strong soft middle squeezes of love.

"I know we were going to spend our vacation alone here. But can't we get away to someplace where…"

"Where Carter isn't?" Luka finished for her.

"I guess." Sam waited for him to completely rebuff the idea. But he didn't. "Well?"

"A little late to make reservations."

"Let me take care of it. I know someplace that is free, that is a happy place for me. The only place from my childhood that made me happy. I'll surprise you, okay?"

Luka smiled and stroked her hair, then took his free hand and directed her sweet face towards his. "Okay. Surprise me."

Their lips met and lingered before opening and tasting each other.

_(A few lines from song lyrics for 'Simple' by K.D. Lang previusly properly attributed, have been deleted on 5/03/05 due to new regulations by site administrators. Complete original text of this fic can be found at LUKAFIC)_

_

* * *

_He found himself wandering the halls of the Carter mansion again. Another sleepless night as a captive of his own dreams. Finding his cell phone on the hall table where he had discarded it with the contents of his coat pocket several hours earlier, he picked it up and dialed Luka's apartment. It was something he had done before when he awoke questioning his memories - wondering if what happened… happened. 

No answer. Luka wasn't on until tomorrow - a few hours from now actually. But, no answer. It shouldn't have surprised Carter that he was with Sam. He could call his cell, but instead closed his own phone and put it back on the table.

Since his grandparent's deaths a lot of the furniture had been covered. Some things, his father had taken and put in his own home, but most of what made it a home for Carter was hidden under white sheets or plastic. Sunday night, other than the one permanent staff member far away in staff quarters, he was alone in the hollow of his home. He had let most of the other staff go except for a groundskeeper and a couple housekeepers. He had no need for people to do for him. He wasn't there much and when he was, he kept to the kitchen or his own room - alone. He didn't need them.

Opening the considerable double doors leading into what was once the ballroom, Carter walked over to the windows, his footsteps echoing in the chamber of fine woods, and threw open the large heavy red drapes, welcoming the parse moonlight into the essentially empty space. It wasn't a full moon, but bright enough to reflect off the gold gilding of the picture frames and ornate moldings. Pulling the sheet up over the head of the grand piano, he sat on the bench and opened the cover. He could barely remember the basics from his years in mandatory piano lessons - he and Barbara, Bobby before… Carter plunked out a few chords and even managed a very poor performance of Fur Elise - his recital piece when he was eleven. His last recital. Half way through he stopped. It was something he and Bobby would play together, and if left alone they would make faces, rude noises and generally degrade the meaning of the composition in the name of juvenile impropriety. Carter smiled and chuckled at the thought.

He settled into the only other piece of furniture left behind - an old flower upholstered chaise lounge. Gamma's favorite. He and Bobby called it the Granny Chair. Often was the time that he would sneak up on Gamma as she was stretched out on it, a comforter covering her legs as she read a book, and his grandfather in his own chair parked right up next to Gamma. If Carter was quiet enough, he'd catch them holding hands.

He briefly caught her scent as he leaned back in the chair and rested his head against the winged side. Looking out at the landscape, sun fighting against the moon to start a new day, Carter wondered if he would ever have what Luka and Sam have… what his grandparents had…

_(Lyrics Deleted)_


	5. Chapter 5 Himself is his Own Dungeon

_**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**by Sharon R._

_**Chapter Five**_

"And you mentioned that up until the last few days, or nights, you have not had any negative emotional effects from what happened?"

Carter sat at the windowsill trying to seem matter-of-fact, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't just mean nightmares or insomnia."

Looking out of the fifth floor window, Carter only half listened as he kept a lifeless count of the people going in and out of the Pier-1 store across the street. Sixteen, seventeen... The blizzard of Friday had given way to a veritable heat wave as temperatures climbed into the seventies. Boots evolved into shoes, parkas into short sleeved shirts. Eighteen…

"John…?"

He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the center of the room. "What?" he responded with a yawn.

"_You _came to _me_, remember? I can't help if you don't say anything."

"Carl, I'm really not at liberty to discuss specifics…"

"We're talking about _you _now. Not a friend or colleague."

"I know." Back to the window. He'd lost count. Now he'd have to start all over, but he was so worn-out. One, two… The bright reflection of the sun off of the glassed in buildings surrounding them pierced his tired eyes. Three… four… Closing his lids he found himself on the Midway porch, watching the children as they dribbled a soccer ball between them on their way to the fields. Refugee mothers laughed and babies squealed with delight from within the clinic across the way as Maggie conducted early childhood classes. Students hammered at a new project in the distance and the rickety bus pulled into the camp. His face relaxed as he allowed himself a scant smile.

"Where are you now, John?"

"At the camp," he quietly disclosed, his eyes still closed.

"What's going on?"

"Stuff. Daily stuff. Toomay's cooking chikwange…" Carter inhaled as though he was in her kitchen, and smiled broadly. "…and fumbwa." He was almost half asleep, his body comfortably relaxed and indifferent to the awkward position on the sill.

"Who is with you?"

"Nobody. Just watching." He even turned his head a bit as though scanning the scenery. "Othiamba and the children."

Carl DeRaad watched curiously as his patient, eyes closed, seemed almost hypnotized sitting in the oversized windowsill, one knee drawn up, his head resting back against the wall.

"It's so dry," Carter mumbled almost unintelligibly. In his dream state, Mbuto came to him with a picture and held it out for him. It was colored with magical colors - so unusual for the boy at first. Stars and rainbows, children and kites.

DeRaad stood from his chair and moved to sit on the corner of his desk closer to Carter so that he could speak to him in a quieter voice. He didn't want to lose whatever state the doctor was in. Amazingly, Carter's hand reached out as though touching something.

"What do you have there, John?"

"Thank you, Little Man." Carter smiled and put the imaginary piece of artwork close to his chest. The boy grinned back and put his hand in another person's next to him. As they turned to walk away, Carter waved good-bye.

DeRaad watched as Carter's hand fell back into his lap and demeanor change from a happy, relaxed state. His face drew down and lost a little color before the anger tightened his mouth and brought flashes of red to his forehead and slightly quivering chin.

"What is it?" the psychiatrist asked. "Who is it, John?"

Mbuto and Todd walked hand in hand towards the soccer field, the only thing out of place being the gunshot wound to Todd's back and the blood soaking across his white shirt.

"Todd." With that, Carter's eyes flew open and he sucked in a deep breath.

"You want to tell me about Todd?"

"He was a college student." Carter was embarrassed and now fully turned into the window pane to hide his anger. _Control_, he thought. _Get control_. _Keep it inside_.

"And why does he make you sad?"

"He was a lot like me, I guess." He cleared his throat as he recovered.

"That makes you sad?"

"_I'm not sad_," he corrected DeRaad. "I gave him a hard time at first."

"What happened?"

"He was _so _young and inexperienced. But he had a _good heart_. He wanted to please -"

"You keep saying '_was_'."

"- his father so much. The children filled a void in his life."

"Why does Todd make you sad?" DeRaad tried to interject questions on top of Carter's words.

"Those kids let him be the child his father probably never let him be."

"And he reminded you of your childhood?"

"And now he'll never get to be a father."

The room became silent and then cold as the air conditioning kicked in. The click of the unit, then monotone hum stood between the men as each waited for the other to say something.

"John? What happened to Todd?"

"They killed him."

"Why?"

"_Shot him in the back_," he angrily spit out from his clenched teeth. "He waited for all the children to get to safety. They shot him in the back. They knew exactly what they were doing."

"Who?"

"**_The rebels_**," he shouted turning to look directly at DeRaad. "**_Her rebels_**."

"Who?"

"_Todd_. The college kid," Carter stood, exasperated with the redundant questioning. Wasn't that shrink listening?

"You said '_her' _rebels. Who is she?"

"I tried to tell them…" Carter was now pacing the psychiatrist's office avoiding DeRaad while muttering to himself.

"About what?"

"…that she wasn't who they thought she was."

"Who was she?"

"She _sucked _the life out of Todd, from the kids, me…"

"How?"

"…and Luka. _Shit_." He chuckled nervously. "She made him… it was _my _fault…"

"What was?" DeRaad kept his cool and rarely moved, letting Carter control the conversation. "What did she make him do? John?"

Carter stopped by the file cabinets and rested his arm and then head on top of them before taking a deep breath and attempting to compose himself. "Nothing." Once again he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, Carl."

DeRaad reached the door and kept Carter from opening it. "John, you are physically and emotionally exhausted. Let me talk to Kerry about some time off."

"No. Luka's going on vacation soon, which means a clueless new moonlighter. We just don't have coverage. I'm okay. I'll go home and sleep. I'm not on until tonight. Really, I've been fine up until now."

"I don't recommend it, John. Sleep is such an essential component to good health."

"It'll pass. Luka hasn't had any problems. We went through the same thing."

"Nobody said he was out of the woods either. John, these memories - they sometimes take a while to surface and are usually triggered by the senses. You said that a strong body odor makes you think of Sobriki." Carter nodded. "You smell that every day in the ER, right? You see knives every day, go into exam-2."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that after you were stabbed, you buried everything about it and look what happened. It wasn't until you let it out that the thoughts and feelings abated. They never go away, but they become manageable. Right? When you come across that smell, you aren't debilitated with fear any more, are you?" Carter shook his head again. "Of course not. And in time whatever these bad memories are that you have will also diminish and find their proper place, but not until you let them out. It's time to manage these things."

"I just need some sleep."

DeRaad walked back over to his desk and scribbled on a pad. "Here," he handed the pieces of paper to Carter, "it worked before. Can't hurt."

Carter looked down at the script for anti-depressants and sleeping pills. "I don't like the side effects…"

"You need to manage these things now before they get out of control." DeRaad was very succinct in his instructions.

"I'm not out of control."

"I didn't say you were. Just that if you keep these emotions locked up and let them control your life, it's inevitable that you **will **be out of control."

"I know that," Carter admitted, although without much conviction.

Turning in the corridor to close the door behind him Carter paused as he read the nameplate:

**Carl DeRaad, MD, PhD  
****Psychiatry Department Chairman**

_Here I go again,_ he thought

"Carter."

He quickly pulled his hand off the door handle and spun around to find Kerry Weaver by his side, a stack of charts in hand.

"You, ah, okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

She wasn't very subtle when she pointed to the same name plate that he had been staring at just moments before and then glanced down at his hand holding the obvious prescriptions, which he quickly stuffed in his pocket.

"Just getting a consult on a patient."

"You're working? Dressed like that?"

Jeans and a t-shirt. He'd forgotten that he hadn't really intended on coming here first thing in the morning as he was driving around the city. "I'm off, actually."

"And you're here?"

"Dedicated." Carter made a beeline for the elevator all the time hearing the _thwup _of Kerry's cane trailing him. He tried to pretend he didn't know she was there but failed when she caught the elevator doors and snuck in behind him.

"Mind if we share the ride down?"

Carter shook his head politely, smiling just as politely.

"I'm helping out in the ER today," she almost proudly announced to an unimpressed Carter. "So you're getting a consult for an ER patient? Carter, you haven't been on since Friday night."

"It's for a frequent flier, actually. Just trying to stay ahead."

The stainless steel of the elevator walls revealed why Kerry was so surprised at his appearance. As he looked at his reflection in the doors, he saw a very tired man, older than his years with bags under his eyes, three days worth of beard growth, unkempt hair and a clothing style that would bring any of the Queer Eye guys into the ER with a massive stroke. Then he knew he was losing it when he started singing along to the music under his breath. "What the world needs now, is love sweet love." _Barf,_ he thought_. Heavy metal in an elevator just once would be fun._

"You ready to present to me?" Luka walked towards the trauma room intent on keeping Morris on track with the number of cases he cleared. Leave him alone and he knew that Morris would just as soon waste time in the ambulance bay watching the clouds move above.

"Fifty-one year old male, no other health concerns or drug allergies. Says no drugs or alcohol on board but I'm waiting for a tox screen and BAL anyway. All other labs are normal."

"_Blood sucking queer_," the patient raged from within the constraints of the c-collar and backboard.

"Cause for admission?" Luka prompted.

"Pick-up truck versus a light pole at ten miles an hour, so he says," Morris continued. "Abrasions to the face from the air bag, closed fracture of the humerous, painful right knee, soft and non-tender belly, and no other complaints or obvious injuries. Waiting on ortho."

Luka flipped through the pages of the chart. "Ruled out c-spine?"

"Yeah."

"Then why still the backboard and collar?"

"Serves a purpose."

"_First I get this God damned African man nurse, now a commie doctor_?"

"See what I mean?"

"Morris, what can you tell me about neurological involvement in closed head injury and its affect on personality."

"Patient can present lethargic or altered..."

"_Damn doctors can't even speak English anymore. And too many fucking broads_. _This is America. **My** America._"

Luka continued with Morris, trying to ignore the ranting patient. "That's right. So until or unless you establish that this behavior is baseline for Mr. Piper, add a head CT to the orders and do a thorough neuro check." Luka went to the head of the bed and looked down into the patient's eyes. "Mr. Piper, we're going to take good care of you…"

"_How many of our boys died for your fucking freedom?_"

"…and Malik - _Nurse McGrath _here is going to give you some oxygen to make you more comfortable." He couldn't help but throw Malik a smile. "Two liters by mask. A tight mask."

As the transparent mask was placed around his mouth and nose, the man appeared to struggle as he mumbled from behind it.

"Excuse me?" Luka kindly asked him as he lifted the mask away from his mouth.

"…_and I didn't ask to come here. No way no black…" _

Luka was quick to replace the mask and tighten the elastic enough to keep the man's words to a muffled annoyance.

"Okay, then." Luka patted his shoulder and left the room, nearly running into a very young, very petit and very beautiful lady being escorted in by Randi.

"She's here for Mr. Piper."

"Daughter?"

"_No_," the woman responded incredulously, "I'm his wife."

"Can I ask you, is he always like this?"

"What," she said in her diminutive voice, "you mean copping an attitude?"

Luka nodded.

"That's my pooky-bear!" Prancing over to the gurney in her stiletto heals and very mini leather skirt, Mrs. Piper smacked the patient on the top of the head. "Darn it all, Peter, how many times I gotta tell you not to insult those kinds of people…"

Going back to the board, Luka spied Carter in the distance just getting off the elevator with Kerry. Chart in hand, Luka walked down the hall.

"Kerry, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind supervising Morris. He needs to rule out a head injury and I've got a trauma coming in."

"Sure."

"And take Neela with you. You may need a translator."

"He speaks Punjabi?"

"No, English."

Kerry glanced down at the chart, confused, as she headed to the doors of Trauma-1. "Peter Piper?"

Luka's mischievous grin turned into a giggle as Kerry disappeared with Neela in tow.

"Oh, no. What have you done?" Carter asked joining in with Luka's infectious laugh.

"She'll thank me later." He put his hand on Carter's shoulder to stop him from leaving so they could talk. "I thought you were working today."

"I did some switching. I'm taking nights this week."

"You had an easy schedule - all days. Why make it harder?"

"That house is too hard to sleep in at night. Don't feel so alone with the staff there in the day." Luka didn't look too convinced, so Carter finally put out the truth. "And I thought I'd keep my distance from you and Sam."

"That's really not necessary…"

"Yes," Carter corrected him, for himself at least, "it is. You working twelve?"

Luka nodded.

"Okay then. I'll see you tonight at shift change. Seven o'clock."

Once outside, Carter found the nearest bench and sat down. The sun felt fantastic on his face. He'd been working so much he'd almost forgotten what sunshine was like. The crappy weather didn't help, but…

"It's a good thing I know you clean up good." Susan was making her way to the doors and sat down next to Carter. "Otherwise I'd have to remind you of the dress code in Weaver's new employee manual. If you're not careful she just might make you start wearing those hot suspenders again."

"Gee, all you had to do was ask, Susan. I'd wear them for you," he gave her with a friendly wink. "Actually, I'm not on until tonight."

"Me too. But I've got a human resources meeting this morning. What the hell are you doing in this cesspool of inhumanity?"

Carter leaned back and rubbed his face to wake himself up. "Personal business."

"Oh, I see. You're still in a mood?"

Carter reluctantly pulled the scripts out of his pocket and let Susan see them as he held them in his lap.

"Uh-oh. What's going on, Carter?"

"Nothing I want Weaver to know anything about."

"Don't even worry." Susan smiled and waved her hand to ease Carter's mind. "So?"

"It's been five months, Susan. _Five months _and I've been fine. But last week something triggered these memories which turned into nightmares, and now," he shrugged, "I'm not sleeping."

"You want to talk about it?"

"That's just it. I can't. This is so hard to explain," he eeked out as he bent forward resting his elbows on his knees. "I couldn't even tell DeRaad." He waited for Susan to beg for information, but she didn't. "I am half a world away, all these months removed and what happened just all of the sudden took over my head." It was a nervous chuckle, but Carter was anything but giddy.

"If you want to talk…"

"Thanks, but circumstances and…," he sighed heavily knowing it sounded stupid, "and other people and, well, everything won't allow it."

Susan took the two prescriptions and looked at what DeRaad had prescribed. "Wow, only a five day's supply and no refills. He's keeping you on a short leash. You're going to get them filled," she assumed out loud but without much of a confirmation from Carter, "aren't you?"

Carter shrugged as he took the scripts back and stuffed them in his pocket. "I don't know. We'll see."

"We'll see? We'll see if what? You keel over and die from lack of sleep? Come on Carter, follow doctor's orders and get your body back on track." Carter remained seated next to Susan, not looking at her, but down and away as if lost in thought. She wasn't sure if he even heard her. "Did DeRaad say anything about your selective hearing?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I've gotta get in there. Call me if you want to talk, okay?"

"Is this the trauma you were waiting on?" Sam said as she came up behind Luka standing at the bay doors. Snapping on gloves she looked around noticing that they were alone and Luka didn't appear as though he were in the 'trauma mode'. "Luka? A trauma…?"

He stood with his hands in his pants pocket, his long white lab coat pushed back. It was early enough in the shift that his shirt was still pressed and tie was nicely in place. He stared out the glass doors, not hearing Sam until she tugged at his elbow.

"Luka. Are you waiting for an ambulance?"

"Um, no. Just …"

"Weaver sent me out to help with the trauma coming in."

He looked down sheepishly and nibbled at his lower lip while letting a grin escape just for Sam. "I lied," he confessed with a raised eyebrow.

"But, Weaver… and Mr. Piper… Oh, you're bad." Sam gave him a friendly bump to the side as she shared his secret. "So what are you doing?"

He paused and contemplated making something up as he had become so adept at doing to avoid the 'Carter' issue, but when he saw her face, and thought back to the weekend, he was incapable of deceiving her any longer. "I'm watching Carter."

She tracked his eyes as they took her from the door to the bench outside of the ER. There, Carter sat with Susan, he with his head down, she with her hand on his shoulder. "Looks like he's found someone to talk to," she tried to point out to Luka.

"He looks like shit."

"He just needs to get some sleep."

"I wish it were that easy," Luka almost whispered. "We were supposed to work together this week. But now he's on nights. Did you know that?"

"No. You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't. **He **did. For you."

As Susan got up from the bench to come inside, Sam took the opportunity to at least try and be gracious. "Maybe you should go talk to him."

"No. You're right. He needs to get some sleep."

"If Dr. Carter is still around," Randi announced from the Admit desk, the phone to her ear, "he needs to know that he's been getting these weird phone calls here since yesterday."

"What do you mean, Randi?" Luka asked returning to the board to check on cases.

"I don't know. Can't understand whoever's on the other end. Lots of static and then it goes dead."

"Let me see." Luka took the phone and putting his hand over his other ear, tried to make out what was being said. "_Carter… they... don't… Chicago_." Luka shook his head, then hung up when the line went dead. "I don't know. Maybe his parents are out of the country again."

"Want me to page him?" Randi asked.

"No. I'll talk to him at shift change tonight."

_**

* * *

But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself is his own dungeon.** -John Milton 1608-1674, British Poet

* * *

_

The noise from the gardeners and landscapers readying the estate for the belated springtime made Carter wish he had found someplace else to sleep before his night shift started in seven hours. Hector had called in the big guns for the job - at least a dozen of them removing snow fences, burlap from the newer and smaller shrubs and any trace of fallen leaves from the previous autumn which had hibernated in moist hard to reach places. Luckily they were concentrating on the front yard and his bedroom faced the east lawn.

"Good afternoon Dr. Carter." Maria, the head housekeeper, greeted him at the door. "I'll tell Cook that you are here for lunch."

"No. Don't bother. I have to work tonight. Going to spend the day in my room."

As Carter walked through the grand foyer towards the staircase, he heard the strains of beautiful music coming from the library. With the door ajar, he leaned against the wall next to the open door, his ear trained on the delicate notes of the classical piece. Gabriel Faure's _Pavane _was often heard throughout the house when he was growing up - a favorite of both of his grandparents. It was special to them. Grandpa loved his opera and rarely veered from it, while Gamma preferred Jazz. But this piece, together, made them happy - perhaps it carried a memory for them that they could relive when they heard it. While the melody was carried by two different instruments, much like his grandparents were two very different people, to Carter, the sad cello and clarinet backed up by the hopeless sounding piano did little to boost his spirits and only made him feel an even deeper absence of the two people who were the most loving and nurturing in his life.

"Dr. Carter?" Her voice with the thick accent startled him.

"I'm sorry, Maria." He fought the sleep in his eyes and stood up straight as though he hadn't paused at that one place for any length of time.

"The CD was in the stereo. I'll turn it off," she offered, pushing the vacuum cleaner into the room.

"That's okay. Just…" He didn't want that reminder. Not then. "If you could just find something else to listen to…"

He was back at the staircase and halfway to his room when he heard the music turned off and the loud vacuum cleaner in its place. Closing the door behind him, he pulled the heavy drapes shut, darkening the room almost instantly. He kicked his shoes off at the side of his bed and sat down on the edge, digging the palms of his hands into his tired eyes and treating himself to a gigantic yawn.

"Dr. John," the voice called on the other side of the door before Emily opened it and peaked inside, "it's lunch time. Maria tells me you don't want to come down, so I made a plate for you." After seeing Carter nod his head, the matronly woman pushed open the door and brought the tray over to the table by the window.

"That's not a plate, Emily. You spoil me."

"I have cooked for your family for twenty-eight years. Now I have no one but you. So eat up and make an old woman happy."

Carter smiled and chuckled graciously. "Thank you, Emily."

"And about the phone," she said before reaching the door, "it still rings but there is either no one on the other end, or I can barely make out the words."

"Like yesterday?"

The cook nodded.

"But when my other friend calls…?"

"No - that's fine. In fact there's a message I took for you and left on the hall console. This is different."

"Alright," he sighed as he put it on his mental list of things to do, "I'll see what I can do." He remained sitting on the edge of the bed too tired to even take off his socks. It felt so good to close his eyes.

"Dr. John…"

"Hmm?"

"Eat."

Carter gave her a genuine smile as she winked at him, but something kept her there.

"You look lost," she gave him with a caring tone.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"What can I get you?"

"How about another pillow."

Emily walked across his room to an elegant mahogany armoire against the wall. Opening the door she reached up and pulled a pillow from the top shelf, just avoiding getting clobbered in the head by a box that had been stored on top of the piece of furniture. "What's this?" she asked as she picked up one of the items that had spilled out onto the floor.

Carter turned his head just far enough to see out of the corner of his eye, the tan multi-pocketed vest he had received as a "guest" of Emile's in Africa. He had no real answer for her and rolled his eyes wondering what else could possibly keep him from a few hours sleep. The house phone ringing certainly answered that for him as he fell back on his bed in surrender.


	6. Chapter 6 Jokes, Lightening & Visitors

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Six**

The tray of food Emily had left for him earlier at noontime was still on the table where she left it. So was the vest. Carter picked at the fruit, then grabbed the bottle of water as he left his room, the vest under his arm. _It's time to dispose of this memory_, he thought. The cook was somewhere in the house - everybody else was gone for the evening - and the functionality of staff within the walls had reverted back to emptiness. In the foyer, he stopped long enough to retrieve the phone message Emily had put there earlier in the day. It gave him a smile, but he was too occupied to give it the attention it deserved.

"No time for some dinner, Dr. John?"

"No, thank you. I'm going in a little early. I'll get something…" The Carter family loyal servant was drying her hands with a kitchen towel and a warm scent of savory herbs and warm spices followed her from the kitchen. She had obviously taken the time to prepare a meal for him. And if he wasn't mistaken, his favorite apple pie. "I sure would appreciate something to-go," he offered her appreciatively.

"Your mail is under the paper there. I'll be right back."

Pushing the paper aside, Carter grabbed the three days worth of mail and headed into the living room where Emily had made a fire in the oversized fireplace. Like dealing a deck of cards, he tossed one piece of junk mail after another into the flames, until he got to the large manila envelope at the bottom. The return address peaked his interest - Washington D.C. Reaching in, he pulled out just the letter:

_Dear Dr. Carter:_

_It is with great pleasure and admiration that we welcome you to the National Press Club's annual recognitiondinner on the Tenth of May to receive the **Robert Capa Photo Journalism Award **posthumously for Colleen J. Reilly. Robert Capa's motto was: _

**_If your pictures aren't good enough, you aren't close enough_**

_CJ Reilly lived that motto. Her work is a credit not only to the men and women who put their lives on the line every day in the name of honest journalism, but also to the refugees for whom she gave an international voice._

_I look forward to meeting you and hope that you will be able to share with us an insight into CJ's work in Africa._

_Enclosed, please find… _

Carter huffed as the thought of honoring Colleen turned his empty insides. He didn't even want to finish reading the letter, but scanned to the closing.

_  
Yours Truly,  
Jeffrey Alton Dutton  
National Press Club President_

"So not returning a call means I'll do it?" he asked out loud to no one.

He very nearly threw the envelope into the flames until he saw the program with Colleen's picture on the cover with her birth and death dates, like a tombstone.

**Colleen Juverna "CJ" Reilly  
****1971 - 2004**

"Did you say something?" Emily asked walking up to Carter with a bag in her hand.

"No, just thinking out loud." Putting the envelope on the chair next to the fireplace along with the vest, he took his dinner from Emily. No simple bag lunch - it was heavy. "All this?"

"There's enough for two, just in case, you know…," she demurely smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Carter nodded. _She's sweet_, he thought. "See you in the morning."

"You take it easy." Following Carter to the door and barely catching him she added, "oh, and by the way, the man from the phone company came and checked the lines."

* * *

"Dr. Kovac," Jerry called out as Luka crossed in front of the Admit desk, "Dr. Flynt from radiology is on his way down to see you. Says to tell you to stay in one place so he can find you. Oh, and to stop sending patients." 

"He's not serious, is he?"

"I've never known him not to be."

Luka stopped his hike to the lounge and instead went over to the board and began erasing discharged patients.

"Keep this up and there won't be anything for the night shift to do," Jerry whined as he unwrapped a submarine sandwich and took his first of four mouthfuls on the way to finishing it.

"Well, maybe Dr. Carter can return the favor one day."

"With my luck, I won't be on that day."

"Fast tracking everything through radiology isn't going to get you many allies down there." Steve Flynt rounded the corner with an armful of large brown envelopes, each with radiographs. "It's been like the mall on Christmas Eve down there today."

"Yeah, well it freed up beds long enough for me to get other patients in and out." Luka followed Flynt to the viewing room with a wall of light boards. "Are you saying that I ordered unnecessary tests?"

"No. But there is such a thing as _portable _X-rays and ultrasounds."

"Which arrive only at the tech's convenience, not mine. What's the matter Steve," Luka kidded as he mockingly looked at his watch, "you guys down in Radiology can't handle more than a 9 to 5?"

"Very funny. I don't have many students this rotation, so I'm doing scut to free up my residents to do some actual learning."

With the light boards turned on, Flynt began his review, slapping the large plastic x-ray sheets up under the clips as he went.

"Wickham, Seth. Rule out fracture-dislocation of the 5th metacarpal base. Negative. Bellamy, Ruth. Rule out orbital fracture. Negative." Flynt was obviously in a hurry, moving from one case to the next as he summarized what he had already taken the time to review back in his department. "Ellington, Stephen. Post reduction films - right shoulder. No abnormalities. Stoker, Dakota. Rule out epiglottitis due to chronic croup. Negative. Ivory, Erin. Rule out ectopic pregnancy. And we've got a winner." Flynt snapped the large collage of different views into the viewer and pointed to each frame. "Here… see it here again… and again."

"Right side ectopic?" Luka confirmed.

"Very early, that's why she's experiencing spotting but no pain yet, and her white cell count and hematocrit are normal. Not only that, we get a bonus." Pointing to the left side of the view, both doctors moved closer to get a better look.

"Both sides?"

"Could be. Notes say she was taking fertility meds. I've never seen it on both sides, but I'm sure it's possible. I'm not as convinced that that's what we're seeing on the left. I'd like to repeat the ultrasound and this time do it myself with the OB/GYN attending before they play with their laparoscopes up in the OR."

Luka looked at his watch again and loosened his necktie. "Was hoping to get her up to the OR before shift change, but okay. I'll call for the consult. Set it up."

Luka meandered back to the desk where he parceled out the orders for discharge to the students, with the exception of Mrs. Ivory, who he handed off to Abby and Pratt. "Tell her that she definitely has an ectopic on the right. There's a chance that the left fallopian tube is involved as well, but before we send her to surgery Dr. Flynt wants to do a repeat ultrasound himself with the OB/GYN attending. Get that consult and I'll sign off when they get here."

With close to five more patients off the board, Luka was sure to give Carter a quiet start to his shift. "Jerry, tell Dr. DeRaad I'll be in the lounge. And don't let anybody discharge Trauma-2 until I see the patient."

Carter parked the jeep in his spot and looked at his watch. Six fifteen. Still had plenty of time before his shift started. He picked up one of his medical journals off of the seat next to him and tried to read it, but it was too dark in the parking garage and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by switching on the dome light. Peaking into the bag Emily had put together for him, he laughed. Next to the container of Chicken Cordon Bleu was a little bag of Fritos. He would beg her for those when he was a kid because the other kids' moms would pack them in their lunches.

Early wasn't so bad. Sam usually didn't work twelve hour shifts, so he wouldn't have to worry about putting another wrinkle in that mess. The EL roared over head as Carter opened the door to the ER and went through security.

"Hey Jerry," he called out, "how was your day?"

"Not bad exceptSuperman of the Balkans sped everyone through in record time."

"Yeah? Well at least you weren't bored."

His hands full with his dinner, the bottle of water and his satchel, Carter backed into the lounge door to open it. He had to move quickly to the refrigerator before he dropped anything, but stopped short at the sight of Carl DeRaad and Luka sitting at the table in discussion - discussion that had stopped abruptly upon his entrance.

"Oh. I see." Carter felt awkward. "Carl, if my watch is right, it's only been eight hours. I've got another four and a half days before I have to see you again." DeRaad and Luka both held their tongues at Carter's flippant remarks. "So Luka, are you checking up on me, or is it the other way around?"

"Neither, actually," Luka was quick to offer.

"John," DeRaad added, "I'm down here on a consult for Luka. But as long as the three of us are here, it wouldn't hurt to ask if the two of you want to talk about what has been bothering you."

"I'm fine," Luka quickly offered.

"You sure? Look, Luka, John has barely told me anything, but I get the distinct impression that the two of you experienced a devastating trauma before you came back." Carter leaned against the counter top as he watched DeRaad grill Luka. "The only thing that tells me you're _not _alright is the fact that you are so keen on telling me you are. I'm worried about both of you having your life disturbed by sense memories, especially if you insist on keeping the event to yourselves."

"Really," Luka nodded to reinforce himself, "**_I'm _**fine, but if John wants to -"

" - No. Carl, we talked already. I don't think I'm going to have any more issues. I even had a peaceful few hours of sleep today."

"You still look pretty haggard," DeRaad commented.

Carter reached up and felt his beard growth. He'd forgotten to shave again. "I'm thinking of changing my image. A beard maybe to ward off the evil spirits."

His joking was lost on the other two doctors who obviously had concerns. While checking the faces of his colleagues, Carter opened the freezer up top of the refrigerator and put in his bottled water for a quick cool down. The refrigerator was next as he found a spot down low for his substantial packed dinner.

As he stood back up, the freezer door swung back open, and like in slow motion, Luka called out to warn Carter as his head aimed right for the corner. "Carter, _stop,_" he yelled.

But before Carter could react, he smacked right into the door. "**Shit**. _God Damn it_," he shouted back as the sting into his scalp made him see stars.

Luka was quick to his feet and made Carter sit down in a chair where he leaned over and rested his sore head in his hands. As Luka pulled a chair up next to him and held his head to check for bleeding, Kerry walked in the door and took in the scene before her.

"Carl? What's going on in here?"

"Nothing," Carter whined pushing Luka away. "I'm alright."

"Kerry," Deraad asked, "could you give us a moment?"

After Kerry had left the lounge, Luka and Carter loosened up with a laugh.

"I don't see any bleeding," Luka said as he looked at Carter's head again. "You seem to have a thick head."

"Family trait."

"Listen," Luka changed the subject, "I have a patient that was brought in by the police. Carl just saw him. He has had a troubled history. Running away, some self mutilation. Won't let me examine him. The kid had been kept locked in a closet in his foster parent's house for possibly up to six months."

"I heard that on the news on my way in."

"I'm wondering if you and Luka could talk to him together" Carl chimed in. "The time you spent in captivity in Africa is well known. He's blaming himself. Even siding with the foster parents to some extent. I think maybe he might be able to identify with you two."

Carter shrugged his shoulders, then went to his locker to get ready for his shift. "Sure," he said while connecting eyes with Luka to make sure they were on the same track, "I wouldn't mind at all."

"Great." Luka got up and patted Carter on the shoulder as he left the room. "Trauma-2. I'll see you in there."

"John," DeRaad waited for the door to close all the way, "did you get those scripts filled?"

"Ah, you know," Carter fumbled, "I don't think that will be necessary. I'll be okay."

"Remember what we talked about. About managing this. You need consistent sleep, _and _someone to talk to."

* * *

As Kerry walked towards the Admit desk to touch base with Susan, she saw Carl DeRaad standing in front of a trauma room, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched the goings on through the window. She stopped next to him and looked in at Carter and Luka talking with a patient. 

"Carl," she said in a subdued voice as she stared at Carter, "should I be worried about him?"

"I think he has a chance. He's finally reaching out," he clinically answered as he watched the boy start to talk, intent on watching his body language. "But…"

"But what?"

"These things can come back to haunt you." He was pleased to see the boy reach out to the two doctors. "I'd hate to see him fall back on old habits." As the boy leaned back, he finally let Luka examine him.

"You think that's a possibility?" She, too, was focused, but on Carter, not the boy.

"It's not a matter of _if_, but _when_. He may already be there for all we know. But with the right help and maybe medication, I think he'll get through this."

* * *

Shift change was smooth with Luka having done most of the paper work before Carter even got there. The patient load was light and, even better, he managed to snag the better med students and residents for the shift. Frank was the only draw back, but with some creative planning and Susan as his accomplice, Carter was hoping to get in some long earned practical jokes with the fourth year med students who were days away from graduating - Abby included. 

"Did you get it?" Carter asked Susan as he pulled her into the storage room.

"Yeah, but not without having to put up with some _really _bad flirting from the pharmacy technician down there."

"Franklin?" Carter mocked in a very high voice. "_Fraaaaaank-liiiin_."

Susan couldn't help laughing. "Shut up. I have to have coffee with him at midnight, just for this." She pulled a jar out from behind her lab coat, which Carter promptly pushed back towards her.

"Not here. _God_, don't open it now."

"I wouldn't think of it. You owe me. How about that guy in Medical Waste who has the hots for you? I heard he wanted to give you French lessons. What is his name?" Susan tapped her chin as though deep in thought. "Let's see. Is it… Gerard?" Carter threw his head back, exasperated with Susan's one upsmanship success. "It is, isn't it? Gerard," she flittingly laid her hand out, pinky extended as she put on a very bad French accent. "_Gerard_!"

"Alright, I get it. I'll page you at 12:01." Carter opened the door and looked both ways down the hall before giving Susan the all clear. With the stealth of the Three Stooges minus one, they bumbled across the hall to an empty exam room.

"Where's Carter?" Kerry's voice couldn't be missed as it bellowed from the Admit desk.

"_Shit_, Weaver. Get in there." Carter was giddy as he pushed Susan into the exam room and closed the door. Susan's laughs could be heard through the door. "Shhh," he scolded as he cracked it open, then tried to walk away as Kerry approached him.

"Kerry, still here? You've put in a long day," Carter mentioned as he leaned against the exam room doorway hoping that Kerry wouldn't go in.

"I wanted to speak to you alone before I left." Her voice was very business like, which usually meant he was in trouble. "John, I'm going to have to ask you to submit a urine and blood sample for drug screening."

"What?"

"I hope you can understand. You've been off lately. Not quite yourself…"

"And that makes you automatically assume I'm using again?"

"Please, John," her tone was patronizing at best, "I have to protect the hospital and the patients…"

"What about me? What about protecting me?"

"Of course. We wouldn't want a patient getting the wrong idea, and by having a negative drug screen on file we would be protecting you, yes."

"Kerry, you are the only one getting the wrong idea. You can't just do this."

"Read your employee manual. Drug testing can be random or at the supervisor's discretion." Pulling the clipboard away from her chest that she had snuggled there, she presented Carter with a specimen cup, and took out pre-labeled test tubes from her pocket.

"I have been sober for almost four years. My probation is three years expired."

"Don't make this harder than it is. I have a job to do."

"You want to watch me pee? Better yet, you can draw my blood _while _I pee. I only need one hand," he pitched sarcastically as he waived a hand in her face.

"Let's go in here and talk." Kerry's attempt to open the door was met with Carter's arm in front of her.

"No, nobody is out here. I don't have anything to hide. Do you?"

This time as she pushed open the exam room door she was met by Susan coming out.

"Hi Kerry," she said as though it was common to exit a darkened room by herself. "Whose labs are you getting?" she asked pointing to test tubes.

"Apparently mine," Carter answered for Kerry, displaying the plastic specimen cup. "Want to join me?"

"I thought you'd be more comfortable with another man. Maybe Morris." That made Carter visibly cringe. "But I suppose Susan or Abby would do since, well, you're familiar with each other." With that Kerry gave the clipboard with the forms filled out to Susan, put on her raincoat and walked out the door.

"Did she just say that?" Susan asked incredulously. "A little Romano-ish, isn't she?"

"I heard Weaver mention my name. My ears are burning." Abby walked up behind Susan and looked over her shoulder at the clipboard. "What's up?"

Susan looked through the two pages of paperwork on the clipboard. "Weaver's doing random drug tests."

"Random?" Abby smirked. "Nothing Weaver does is random."

"You don't have to do this, Carter." Susan tried to be the voice of reason. "Maybe you can protest it. She's obviously making snap judgments…"

"No. It's the price I pay for my sins of the past." He tried to hide his disgust by being lighthearted, but the two women knew him too well. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Abby's a better stick I guess," Susan offered with a sigh.

Walking across the hall to the men's room, Carter offered the open door to Susan.

"Uh, no," she said smiling. "How about I stand guard out here." Carter shrugged and let the door slowly swing shut behind him. "Just remember cowboy," she tried to joke through the door, "I know the difference between urine and tap water."

"Is he okay?" Abby quietly asked Susan.

"_Yes_. This is about Weaver, not Carter."

"Alright, I'll - ah - wait for him in the exam room," Abby said nodding towards the door Carter had been guarding.

"_No_," Susan shot back hoping to keep her out of there, "the suture room."

Abby looked at the darkened exam room, then back at Susan. "Right."

"Here you go ladies. A lovely shade of yellow. A good year, I think." Carter handed off his warm specimen cup to Susan. "Next?"

Carter and Abby walked in silence down the hall to the suture room. They had worked together since they broke it off the previous summer, but they hadn't really been alone. It was awkward for both of them.

"Okay, pick an arm." Abby said as he sat up on the gurney. The alcohol was cool as she wiped down the crook of his left arm. "And a pinch." The blood quickly filled the first test tube, and then the second, until she finally loosened up the latex band on his upper arm. Still they didn't talk. As she took out the needle and pressed a gauzed pad onto the venipuncture site, then bent his arm up, she was reminded of their kiss on that first day of the pox scare.

"You okay, John?"

He sighed, sick of that question. "Abby… please."

"Just asking." Taking his arm back down and replacing the gauze with a Band-Aid, she dared to ask more. "So do you want to go to a meeting with me?"

"_Abby, **stop**_. Don't be one of them. Okay? Just believe in me."

"Hey you two," Susan stuck her head in the door, "three traumas coming in and about a dozen walk-ins just took over chairs. I need you."

* * *

As she reached over to the other side of the bed, the coldness of the sheets woke Sam up. Luka had been up for a while. Usually when he rolled out of bed she would move onto his vacant side - onto the warmth left behind - and snuggle into his pillow still smelling of his scent. _Must be time to get Alex up for school_, she thought. But her eyelids refused, weighing heavily as they eventually retreated. 

_Crack._ She had been too far into slumber to notice the flash of lightening that preceded the thunder as it fell hard onto the top of the building, jolting her upright.

"Just a springtime storm," Luka remarked standing by the window, putting on his tie. It was still dark out and the only light entering the bedroom came from the streetlights below.

"It's only six o'clock," she said in her still asleep, gravelly morning voice as she pulled the down blanket up to quell the shiver the morning air gave her naked bosom. "Been up long?"

Luka leaned against the moulding and stared out at the storm as it covered the city in a blanket of thick, hard rain punctuated by sharp blades of lightening. "An hour, maybe. Haven't heard a storm like this since Africa." He spoke to the window pane more than to Sam and caught himself, turning his attention back to the woman in bed. "Woke me up."

"You okay?"

Luka shrugged, then smiled coyly at Sam as he approached the bed. "Yeah. I took a long shower." He stroked her hair as he sat next to her, the back of his hand falling downward from her cheek to the side of her breast. "Missed you."

As he gently leaned into her, she tilted her head, tickling his lips with her curly long locks of hair, before he pushed them aside and tenderly kissed her slightly opened mouth. Sam eagerly returned Luka's morning gift of passion, this time assaulting his mouth with her hunger, her hands roaming his pressed dress shirt.

"You, have plenty of time, you know, for…" she managed to get out between breaths.

"Mm hmm." Luka smiled and eagerly drew Sam's tongue into his lips playfully before letting her do the same for him.

_Crack! CRASH!_

The thunder rolled over the building at first, then shattered the air. Luka instinctively ducked, his shoulders dipping below Sam's for just a moment. As she peaked down into his eyes she caught him staring at her as though she were a stranger. Not for long. It was just a moment, but one which gave her a lonely feeling… and a shiver of sorts.

"I'd better leave before Alex gets up," he somewhat unassertively gave her. Leaving the bedroom, Sam hastily put on her bathrobe and followed him to the door where they both nearly bumped into the ten year old.

"Hey Luka." The adults were at a loss for words. "Mom, no more milk." The kid put two slices a bread in the toaster, depressed the lever and proceeded to open the morning paper at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Alex," Luka straightened his tie which just minutes before Sam had attempted to take off. "I thought I'd stop in and say hi, um, before…"

"Nice try, I know you spent the night."

"Huh?" Luka feigned.

"Mom doesn't snore." Alex scoured the comics spread out in front of him like a businessman with Sunday's New York Times. "I need three bucks for that field trip. And you have to sign the permission slip."

Luka and Sam shared a shy, if not, humorous smile as he politely kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you at work."

"Okay, I'm on at eight. Yeah…, ah…" She bumbled at the locks and Luka tried to open the door before the chain was taken off, all reminiscent of teenagers caught by the girl's father, all while Alex prepared his breakfast and read the paper.

* * *

"Quiet night?" Luka asked Abby as they met at the ER doors, both with large cups of coffee from across the street. 

"Until about ten o'clock. You're early."

"Loud night," he answered pointing to the sky.

"Yeah, and looks like another one rolling in off the lake pretty soon."

Luka went straight to the board and whistled as he saw how many patients were still in beds. "They've been here all night?" he asked Abby.

"Hell no. It's been a revolving door. Ahhh, the smell of ambulance exhaust on a stormy spring night," she joked.

"Where's Carter?"

"Quarantined in Exam-2 with Susan signing off on charts."

"He hasn't gotten any sleep?"

"Oh, they've been occupied," she giggled, enjoying her inside joke with Chuny and Neela who had joined them at the desk.

Luka did a rewind of the conversation in his head as he tried to figure out what the women were up to. "Okay, I'll play. Why are they quarantined?"

"Let's just chalk it up to a prank malfunction."

Luka couldn't stand the suspense and left his briefcase and overcoat on the chair. He'd see for himself. Looking into the exam room he saw Carter and Susan sitting across from each other, a huge stack of charts between them. The malfunction was apparent to him as soon as he opened the door.

"_Oh_! What the hell…"

The tiredly sarcastic smile on Susan's face was only part of the story. The rancid smell was the rest of it.

"It's called, _Guess That Smell_." Carter tried to be less than a humiliated victim, but it was no use.

"What _is _that smell?"

"Rottenstone, better known as decomposed limestone. It's from old man Burkett's days in the pharmacy," Susan answered. "And this, I think, was a particularly well aged vintage."

"How…?" As Luka grabbed a surgical mask from the rack in the hall and covered his nose and mouth Abby and Chuny joined him.

"Maybe a little oil of wintergreen under your nose will help." Chuny held the bottle out to him in jest.

Carter and Susan rolled their eyes in unison and went back to their charting.

"It's an old, stale joke the Attendings used to play on the med students the month before graduation," Abby explained. "Get something real foul and plant it in the students' pockets while they're catching some Z's. Only this time Lucy and Ethel here failed to get past the planning stage."

"Close the door if you're going to bathe in the glory yet again," Susan called out.

"You see," Chuny started in, enjoying the tale, "they kept going into the exam room. Lights out, wouldn't let anyone in, so finally while they were in there plotting, we - Abby actually - introduced a little air horn through the door. Evidently they walked into each other rather hard and the jar broke spilling the rottenstone all over them."

"So you exiled them?"

"_Oh, yeah_," Chuny laughed. "Even Pablo turned around and walked out. Said he'd come back later."

"Hate to tell you this Carter," Abby announced from her covered mouth, standing as far back from the propped open door as she could, "but we're waiting for you to do rounds."

His head dropped down in anticipation of the razzing he was about to endure again. "Okay, let's get this over with so I can hit the shower."

By the time Sam had arrived, most of the patients had been discharged or admitted to other units. Carter and Luka reviewed the last of the remaining patients' charts in an empty Trauma-1.

"Chavez, he's the fifty two year old man with two less fingertips. Updated his tetanus, and gave him ten of Demerol. Pain has gone from a seven to a three with a burning sensation. Hung a gram of Ancef. Waiting on ortho, but his hand modeling days are over." Carter closed the chart and opened the next.

"Pew, what is that…?" Sam entered the room with an armful of supplies.

"Don't ask," Carter answered as he sheepishly raised his hand. "Mrs. Sedlak - her primary called. Ordered another sed rate and head CT. He's supposed to show up before nine."

"Dr. Carter, someone here to see you," Randi announced from the door.

"Alright, be there in a minute." Carter looked through the door at Kerry who was closing her umbrella as she walked through security. "Uh, Mrs. Moffitt had syncope with LOC, low potassium. Her primary wants her admitted and we added some Kcl to her fluids." Carter's attention veered from the charts. Kerry exchanged words with a few of the staff members, then finally looked in through the windows at the two doctors.

"Carter?" Luka tapped his pen on the charts sitting between them.

"Hmm?"

"What about the two year old with the seizure history?" Luka asked, making sure the charts were accounted for.

"Waiting on a phenobarb level and a neuro consult."

"John," Kerry opened the door just enough to stick her head inside, "I need to see you before you leave."

Carter put on a pleasant face and nodded.

"And you have a visitor out here. Randi…?" she called as she left the doorway.

Carter sighed and put his tired head down into his folded arms while letting out a frustrated growl.

"Kerry giving you a hard time?"

Carter was reluctant to get into Kerry's latest unpleasantries, but in his exhaustion and defeated state of practical jokester-ism, he relented. "She had me submit to a tox screen last night."

"What?"

"Says I've been _off _lately."

"Well, at least you didn't have to pee in front of her."

"Oh, that too, except she let me choose between Susan and Abby since we are, you know, _familiar _with each other." Luka's eyes widened as he processed the thought. "Don't worry. Susan was kind enough to stand outside the bathroom."

"Why blood _and _urine?"

"My guess is that she is too impatient to wait for the blood results since employee screens are sent out, so she added on the quicker urine test as well. Probably waited with baited breath by her phone last night."

Luka spoke quietly even though they were alone in the room "Well, I wouldn't worry..."

"I'm not." Carter sighed and rubbed his exhausted face with his hands.

"Want me to talk to her?"

"No. Let her get it out of her system."

A knock on the doors brought their attention to Randi standing on the other side of the glass with their visitor.

"Well, will you look at that." Carter perked up at the site, then rose to his feet eager to reach the door.

Luka, too, was delighted to see who had come to the hospital and shared Carter's smile from behind him. A large clap of thunder simultaneously with the sharp lightening brightened the room through the glass windows. As Luka saw who else was there, his joy was extinguished and replaced with a foreboding unease.


	7. Chapter 7 Secrets of the Like Minded

_**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
by Sharon R.**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

"Well, will you look at that." Carter perked up at the sight, then rose to his feet eager to reach the door.

Luka, too, was delighted to see who had come to the hospital and shared Carter's smile from behind him. A large clap of thunder simultaneously with the sharp lightening brightened the room through the large glass windows. As Luka saw who else was there, his joy was extinguished and replaced with a foreboding unease.

Carter opened the doors and welcomed the visitors in, bypassing the handshake and going instead for the hug. "My God, what brings you here?"

"Quite a story actually. You two blackguards are looking good. Tired, but good."

Luka gave Sean a quick hug too but looked beyond to the person accompanying him. "How is everything back at the camp?" he asked, trying to stay focused on his Irish friend though looking intently at who was with him. "Maggie giving you a hard time?"

"The camp is good, actually. Toomay has taken on more responsibilities, especially when I have to be away on business. And Maggie is… well, Maggie," he laughed.

Sam noticed the commotion in the trauma room and invited herself back in out of curiosity. Standing behind the guests, she noticed the difference in Carter's and Luka's demeanors. Carter was overjoyed by the man's presence, but Luka stood back. She knew him. Something wasn't right. Something made him terribly uncomfortable.

"Sean, I'd like you to meet Sam Taggart." Luka put his hand on her back as she politely shook Sean's hand. It was a subtle reference to their relationship. One which Sean got. "Sean Griffin is from the _Alliance de Medecines Internationale_. He is in charge of the camp in Pakwach, among other projects."

"Samantha?" Sean never hid his admiration for beautiful women. "A lovely lass indeed," he gave her as she blushed. "Pleased to meet ye."

"Who do we have here?" Sam asked, deliberately directing Sean's attention behind him.

"Well, this…" he had to reach back and put his arm around the shoulders of his friend, "… is Amanda. She is ten years old. Amanda, these are my doctor friends I told you about. John Carter and Luka Kovac, and Luka's friend Sam."

She hid behind Sean more out of avoidance than bashfulness. Amanda was an adorable freckle faced, fair skinned beauty of a girl. Her blue jeans and hip Old Navy t-shirt was her way of announcing her prepubescent stage of life, though the lavender windbreaker and pink backpack told the truth. Tall for her age, she came up to Sean's mid section, and she allowed him to hold her close to him.

The little girl looked up at the men and gazed back and forth. "You smell," she said pointing to Carter with a wrinkled nose, then to Luka, "and you talk funny."

"Charming." Sam couldn't quite help herself.

"My mom took pictures of you," Amanda said, pointing at Carter. "And lots of you too Luka."

Sensing Sam's unease at what must have been the realization of who this little girl was, Luka put his arm around Sam's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Sean, is there something we should know?" Carter asked dubiously under his breath as his memory flashed back to the picture of Colleen's daughter at Bob's house.

"I suspect that we have some things to talk about, yes." Sean, too, tried to beat around the bush as he pointed at the child with his darting eyes. The room suddenly became quiet as it became clear that there would be no further discussion around Amanda.

"Sam," Luka asked, "why don't you take Amanda next door while we talk to Sean about boring business stuff."

"I don't know her," Amanda whined to Sean, "I'm not supposed to go with her. Does she know the code word?"

Sean bent over and leaned on his knees whispering in Amanda's ear. "No, Sam doesn't know the code, but I think she's safe, hmm? You can sit right there and watch us through the window. We're not going anywhere."

"Okay," she whispered back to him, all secret like, "but I'm not talking to her. You can't be too careful."

"Come on Amanda, I'll tell you all about my son. He's your age, and I bet you have a lot in common."

The three men remained silent until Sam and Amanda were safely in the next room with the doors closed.

"What's going on, Sean?" Luka asked, unable to take his eyes off of the miniature version of Colleen on the other side of the windows.

"It's not good, that's for sure." Sean tried to speak without letting on to the seriousness of the situation to the child who was intently watching through the window. "A couple weeks ago things outside the camp… I don't know… just started feeling wrong. Then last Thursday night there was a huge commotion in the distance, then a big fireball." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "In the middle of the night, Bob rousted me and told me that his little girl was in danger. That I was the only one who he could trust now to get her to safety."

"But he's traveled to remote locations before to see her, arranged by the CIA," Carter reminded Sean.

"You don't understand. Bob's tight circle of safety in Uganda collapsed, and the only way that could happen is if his own people turned on him. Now the question is, were they the locals who protected him? Were they finally convinced by the middle east terrorists who Bob exposed to turn on him? And if so, how far up does the corruption go?"

"Bob told you all this?" Luka asked, still stunned by the news.

"No, only that his layer of local protection suddenly dissolved. His compound was overtaken, his staff all killed with machetes. Othiamba was able to get him into the jungle, but his home was ransacked - gone over with a fine tooth comb, before they destroyed it."

"These people take out his loved ones first," Carter remembered out loud. "That's what Bob told us. Jeez… Why are you here?"

"He told me to bring Amanda to you, John. I guess he didn't know that Luka was back from Croatia. We haven't seen much of Bob since you left."

"Me? I don't know anything about kids."

"You're a doctor," Sean reminded him.

"I fix kids, I don't save them from terrorists."

"You saved Mbuto."

Carter grimaced and rubbed his tired face again with his hands hoping to wake up from the nightmare. "Where is Bob now?"

"Dunno. Got out of there as fast as I could. He gave me a code word that only his step-mother and Amanda know. Grandma nearly collapsed when I gave her the word. I guess she knows that that means her son is in danger. She's very old and frail. No way she could protect the child if those terrorists came after her."

"I've been getting weird phone calls at my house, Sunday and yesterday mostly. Can't make out what's said on the other end. Lots of static, then it goes dead."

"Here too," Luka added. "Carter, I meant to tell you that they've been getting calls like that for you here, but nothing today."

"Bob," Sean surmised. "Maybe he's still alive and trying to get you on a satellite phone."

"Oh, boy," Carter sighed. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"You have help at the house still, don't you?" Luka mentioned as Carter nodded. "You can come to work and still keep her occupied safely."

"Huh! The cook is good with a knife, but I'm not so sure she could fend off an attacker at her age."

"Don't think I was followed. There is no reason they would think she was here. Grandma has gone to live with a friend in a home for old folks that doesn't allow children, so the connection should be broken."

"Okay, let me make some calls." Carter took out his cell phone and sat down on a stool in the corner of the room. "Sean, you can come back to the house and deal with her can't you?"

"Afraid not. I've got a flight out in a couple days. Got to get back to the camp. And I don't think it would be wise. Don't worry, I've got a room down the street. It's lovely really." He looked at the small plastic key chain. "Called the Blink Bonnie Motor Lodge."

Luka wandered into the room next door while Sean and Carter made arrangements. Amanda had sat down cross legged on the gurney holding the small backpack tight to her chest. She mindlessly played with small charms hooked to the zippers as she stared at Sean and Carter through the window.

"What are you two girls talking about?" Luka softly asked.

"I guess we're _not _talking," Sam answered. "But maybe that's a good thing."

"I don't have to talk to you," she finally spoke. "You're not my mother."

"No, she's not." Luka pulled a stool up and sat down, looking up into Amanda's face. "But you do have to mind your manners."

"I want to go home."

"I know you do, but for now your dad wants you to stay here in Chicago and live with Carter."

"I don't like him. He smells."

"Yes, well, that's temporary." Luka couldn't help but gaze at her face and marvel at how much she looked like her mother. The eyes, chin, hair. "You look a lot like your mother. I bet you even have her same smile." Amanda remained immobile as she tried to ignore the grown-ups. "What's in your bag there?" he asked.

"None of your business." But she couldn't keep everything a secret. "They're my special things."

"Girls need special things," Sam said as she pat Amanda's back tenderly. "You don't have to tell us what they are."

Carter and Sean joined them as Malik and Pratt took over Trauma-1 with a patient.

"… okay, and make sure that you introduce yourself to the house staff before they call the cops on you," Carter said into the cell phone before ending the call. "We're all set at the house," he said quietly into Luka's ear. "I've hired security to watch the house. There should be two people outside at all times."

"Are you talking about me?" Amanda asked.

Sean sat up on the gurney next to the red haired girl. "Uh-huh. You see, John had to call the people who work at his house so they could get it all ready for you, just like they would for a princess. But I have to go now. Hmm?"

As Amanda dipped her head, her long curly red locks of hair fell forward, hiding her face. "I don't want you to leave me alone."

"_No_, I'm not leaving you alone. Aye, I am giving my two very best blokes to you. They are like brothers to me, you'll see. Amanda," he put his finger under her chin, tilting her head up, "you have to be brave. Remember, you are on a mission for your Da. No tears, eh?"

"I'm always brave. And I don't cry. _Ever_." Her face hardened, her tiny freckles coming together as she wrinkled her brow. "My mom never cried."

"I know someone else who never cried," Luka added. "But that's because he didn't know how. He had never been loved and didn't know the difference between happy and sad. I bet you have been loved a whole lot."

"I _don't _cry."

Sean wrapped his arms around the girl and gave her a big hug before planting a kiss on her head. "You be a good girl, ye hear?"

"Are you going to go back to Africa to get my dad?"

"I'm going to do my best. Now, Princess, you have do your best too."

Giving Amanda one last hug, Sean hopped off the gurney. "Ta tu go h-aileann," he whispered in her hear before exiting the room, nodding a good-bye to Sam and Luka.

"Sean," Carter caught him before he got too far down the hall, "what do we do with her?"

The Irishman shrugged his shoulders and grimaced. "Dunno. I'll do what I can back in Pakwach to find Bob or Othiamba. I'm sure he knows how to get hold of you." Sean looked at the hopeless bachelor nervously combing his fingers through his hair. He didn't know what to say, so… "And you _do _smell, my friend. Even _we _have showers at the PCRC," he ribbed.

Carter groaned, totally getting Sean's bent sarcasm. "I showered, really." He put his arm around Sean's shorter shoulders just to spite him. "What is it you told her back there? It sounded like Klingon to me."

"That she was beautiful. Girls like that kind of thing, eh?" Sean raised his eyebrows a couple times, then pulled away from the ripe smell of his friend. "You ought to broaden your knowledge. Learn another language. The girls like that too."

"Yeah? Got any words of wisdom for me?"

"Beagan agus a ra go maith… _Say little, but say it well_." Sean stopped at the curb and turned to Carter. "If she's anything like her mother, and so far she is, that's pretty sound advice."

Carter laughed out loud and nodded in agreement. "I wish you could stay longer. When do you leave?"

"Flight out Thursday, so I've got another day and a half."

"At the Blink Bonnie…"

"Aye, nice little hotel. Cozy - I like it. It suits me."

"So are they charging by the hour or week?" Carter noticed that the joke went right over his friend's head. "Never mind. What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Sleep mostly." The warming spring sun smacked them in the face as they stepped outdoors, prompting both to instinctively look up into the skies and squint away the early morning rays. "Heading over to Mercy later on to try and talk a couple young naïve doctors into joining the program."

"Have them give me a call. I'd be glad to answer any questions they might have."

"No offense, John, but your experience in the Congo isn't exactly worthy of promotion."

"That's low," Carter rebuffed, understanding Sean's sarcasm. "Why don't you come by tomorrow before shift change, say 6 o'clock, or before. Catch dinner with Luka and me."

"Sounds great. If you need me, ring up the hotel, leave a message at the desk. I don't believe I saw a telephone in the room."

"What? Listen, take my cell phone, take my Jeep." Carter reached in his pants pocket and gave Sean his keys and phone. "I need to be able to get ahold of you in case… I don't know, she implodes or something."

"Are ye sure?"

"Please, we'll be fine." Carter led Sean away from the curb towards the parking garage. "Come on. I'll point you in the right direction."

"Did you use soap?" Sean rubbed in.

* * *

"My dad is in charge of _all _the spies in Africa," Amanda boasted as she played with the drawstring of her windbreaker. "I bet he'll get here in a couple days. Thursday. Yep." She had convinced herself. Hopping off the gurney, she started peeking in drawers and cupboards, finally amusing herself with a roll of gauze and some instruments left behind on the mayo stand. "Are you rich?" she asked Luka as he took a pair of forceps from her. "Doctors make a lot of money."

"Ah, no," Luka answered. "I'm not rich."

"I am." Amanda was rather sure of herself as she bragged. "My mother is famous. She said that when she finished with her project we would move to someplace special and far away. We're going to build a huge mansion."

Luka dipped his head down and looked at her from his dark upturned eyes, not sure what to say.

"Don't look at me like that," the girl snottily threw out. "I _know _she's dead. But my dad has all her stuff at his house in Uganda."

"Did your father give you any of her things when he saw you in the Netherlands?" Luka asked.

"You know about that? 'Cause that was top secret." Amanda looked between Luka and Sam, then walked up to him and drew him forward with her finger so that she could whisper in his ear. "Should she be hearing this?"

Luka nodded. "Sam has been cleared," he lied convincingly.

"My dad gave me her backpack and her cameras. I guess that's all he could carry. But she lived in a beautiful house in Africa with servants and cooks and everything. I think he's gonna take me back there and we'll live in her house."

"Ready to go?" Carter stepped in the room and held the door open.

"She's going to love your house," Luka mumbled as he walked by him.

"What kind of car do you have?" she asked Carter on their way outside.

"A Jeep. Why?"

"Huh. I guess you doctors really aren't all that wealthy after all," she pined. "Are you a liberal or a conservative?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not if you don't know the difference. Where's your Jeep?"

"I gave it to Sean to use. We'll take a taxi." Raising his arm to flag down a passing cab, Carter stared down at the little girl. "Are you sure you're only ten?"

* * *

_**Men with secrets tend to be drawn to each other, not because they want to share what they know but because they need the company of the like-minded, the fellow afflicted.** -Don Delillo 1926-, American Author _

* * *

"What's this all about, Luka?" Sam asked as he watched Carter and the girl disappear into a cab.

"We better get back in there." Luka turned and went back through security towards the trauma room, empty once again.

"Luka?" Sam scurried to keep up with him. "_Hey_, slow down."

Luka stacked the charts that he and Carter had finished with, but put them back down on the gurney when he finally stopped long enough to see Sam's puzzled face.

"I get that she is this Colleen's daughter. But it's a mystery from there."

"She doesn't have any other family."

"She mentioned her father."

"Bob. He's a CIA agent. We know him from Congo and then the camp." Luka smiled to himself as he remembered what pains in the ass he and Carter were to Bob when they first met him. That memory took him all the way to the somber man standing in his home, numbing himself with as much scotch as possible as he prepared to tell his daughter that her mother had been killed… by…

"Luka?" Sam noticed his far off gaze.

"Bob helped us out - probably saved our lives."

"I don't get it. Why can't he take care of her?"

"His life is in danger and he needs someone to take care of Amanda. Someone he can trust."

"So Bob and Colleen ,the photographer, were married? And you and Colleen…?"

"They _were _married, briefly, in the middle east. That's where Amanda was born. She's been living down south with her grandmother." He wanted to tell her more, but at the same time the grave implications that the truth would have on her ability to ever trust him again, to retain the image of him that she had, far outweighed his need to be completely honest with her. Because of that, he had to shut the door. "There's a lot to it, most of which I can't explain."

"And she's better off with Carter?"

"Or me. Bob thought I was in Croatia." Luka nervously looked around the room before finally saying what was on his mind. "Sam, I think we should post pone our vacation."

"What? We've had this planned. I've made all the arrangements. It's all Alex has talked about. Luka, we're supposed to leave day after tomorrow," Sam pleaded.

"I can't leave John alone with this."

"_Carter_. Always Carter. We're only going to be gone for two weeks. We'll send them postcards. You… you can call them. **He doesn't always need you**." Her eyes welled with frustrated tears. "Carter has resources if he needs help. All I'm asking for is two weeks of you and Alex to myself."

She was right. He knew she was right. But it was Sam's fallen face that finally pulled him to her side of the argument. Luka walked around the gurney and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his long arms around her. "Alright," he said kissing her head, "just us on your secret vacation."

"I love secrets," a voice called out, "what is your secret vacation?" Artie had barged in to collect trash and mop the floor totally not cognizant of Luka and Sam embracing.

Luka cleared his throat and picked up the stack of charts. "I should get back to work." He smiled and winked at Sam as she wiped the stray tear away from her cheek, leaving her alone with Artie.

"Nurse Sam, you have a secret?"

"I do. Yes, I do, Artie."

Artie rubbed his hands together, all giddy with anticipation. "What is our secret?"

"It's not _our _secret, Artie. It's mine. And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

"I always tell my mom my secrets, because secrets all by themselves are no fun. That's what she says."

Sam smiled and pulled a map from her pocket. "Okay, Artie. I'll tell you, but you can't tell anyone else, especially Dr. Kovac." Artie nodded his head frantically. "Okay, you know your states?" Another nod. "We are going to go all the way here. It's a long drive." Sam traced with her finger along a highway. "And take a left at Fletcher's Motel onto Browns Falls Road. Over the rumble bridge and it's the first house on the right on the hill."

"Is that the name?" he asked as he pointed to the same area. "Os… Oswe…"

"Shhh. That's it. But don't say it out loud," she said playing along. "Now it's **_our _**secret."


	8. Chapter 8 The Ghost of Colleen

_**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**by Sharon R._

_**Chapter Eight**_

**TUESDAY MORNING**

"Are you married?" Amanda practically hugged the door of the cab as though it would keep her that much further away from Carter - the stranger.

"No."

"Then you have a girlfriend?" She looked at the passing landscape as the cab made its way through the city, speaking to the window and never directly to Carter.

"Not right now."

"Was my mom your girlfriend in Africa?"

"_What?_ No."

"She took a lot of pictures of you. I mean _a lot_." She traced with her finger in the dewy breath left behind on the window, her days old pink nail polish long since chipped or worn away to half its original glamour.

"She took a lot of pictures of everyone at the camp."

"I assumed it was you. I mean, in her letter she said a doctor had fallen madly in love with her, and all those pictures, and well…"

"It wasn't…" he looked at the back of her head as he spoke, but soon also shifted his focus to the scenery passing by his own window. "… Ah, not me."

"That other one? The one that talks funny?"

Carter nodded as he slipped into his sunglasses. Amanda wasn't the only one who could hide behind something. "She and Luka were…" he paused while he tried to choose the appropriate wording, "…they were good friends."

"Is this your street? Which apartment building do you live in?"

"No. This is Sheridan Road. We're taking it out of the city… to my house."

"Oh."

As they slowed in traffic at Belmont, Amanda jerked her head around, finally looking at Carter. Or, rather, past him. "What's that statue?" She pointed across Carter's chest to an old statue depicting a soldier on a horse.

"That is Lt. General Phillip Henry Sheridan. He's an Irish guy who was a Civil War hero and even helped out during the Great Chicago Fire in 1871."

"My Grandpa Reilly was a hero in Ireland. My mom said he was full of all kinds of malarky, whatever that means."

By the time they pulled into the long driveway Amanda was half asleep on Carter's shoulder. Feeling the car slow down, she raised her head and looked around at the countryside.

"When are we going to get to your street?" she asked.

"This is the driveway. See, the house is up there."

The cab finally pulled up over the ridge and parked at the front door. Amanda's eyes widened with anticipation of whatever her wild imagination could conjure up at that moment.

"_Wow_! This is a palace," she proclaimed as she got out of the cab empty handed. Forgetting to even close the door behind her, she was instantly smitten with the accommodations, at least from the outside. "You live _here_?"

Carter nodded as he paid the cabbie, exchanged acknowledging looks with the large security guard dressed in street clothes holding open the cab door, then took out Amanda's belongings and started up the walkway.

"Don't touch that," she spouted angrily, grabbing the pink backpack hastily from Carter. "Nobody touches that but me."

Carter said nothing and let the girl have her way as she held onto the prized backpack with both hands. At the top of the stairs, she took a step backwards as the large ornate doors opened from the inside.

"Good morning, Dr. John," Maria greeted him, the cook standing beside her.

"Good morning Maria, Emily. This is Amanda - the young lady I told you about. She's going to spend some time with us."

The women smiled broadly at the girl. It had been many years since they had been charged with the care of a child, and they briefly looked forward to the task once again.

"I'll take your things to your room," Maria gently spoke, taking the suitcase from Carter, then reaching out for the backpack in Amanda's hands.

"I'd leave that be," Carter quietly and politely told the woman, almost apologetically.

"So you'll be my maids?" Amanda asked as she looked up at the tall ceilings and turned around to get the full panoramic view. "Cool. I like cereal and fruit in the morning - low fat milk, _not _one percent or skim. Toast before bed. And I'll have to have a synthetic pillow. I'm allergic to feathers." Standing before the women, she looked between the two. "Do you have grandkids?"

"Aren't you a lovely young lady," Maria sarcastically complimented her with a forced smile. "You remind me so much of Dr. John's mother."

As Maria took the suitcase upstairs, Emily stayed back and raised her nose in the air as if…

"I know," Carter lamented, "I smell."

"Hey, what's in here?" Amanda bounded first into the large formal living room. "_Wow_." Carter could hardly keep up with her as she went from room to room. "Where are all the toys?"

"Ah… it's been a while since children lived here. Since I was a kid, actually."

"That's like, _forever_."

"Thanks."

The grand and elegant rooms were separated by opulent double doors which she flung open as she meandered through the downstairs, touching the marble and mahogany mantles, teak and cherry woodwork, antiques on pedestals and custom made majestic furniture which the staff had obviously gone to the trouble of uncovering for the guest. Not far behind was Emily, ever worried about the well being of the valuables the girl was pawing. And not far behind Emily was Carter who rather enjoyed watching Amanda discover his childhood home, that is until she had completed the circuit. The last door to meet her belonged to the library.

"Amanda, let's stay out of that room." Carter was barely able to finish the sentence before she opened the doors and walked into a room that appeared to be frozen in time.

"_Cool!_ Look at all these books." Ignoring Carter's wishes she walked straight to the middle of the room and stood under the large, ostentatious chandelier. "Who read all these books?"

"Um, my grandparents I guess. My family." Carter anxiously played with his wrist watch, twisting it back and forth. "Come on, this isn't a room, to... ah… play in."

"Dr. John," Emily spoke quietly from behind, "they're just books. The girl has to have something to do while she's here."

He was exhausted, overwhelmed and certainly not up to substitute parenting Colleen Reilly's precocious daughter. "I've got to get some sleep. I'm on again tonight."

"Nights all week?" Emily asked concerned.

"Half shift tomorrow night, then days."

"Can we have dinner at that big dining room table," Amanda asked, "like real rich people?"

"Um…" Emily in one ear, Amanda in the other, "… sure. I guess." He backed out of the room and tried to put on a polite face. "Emily," he whispered, "try to keep her inside and to the back of the house." Without a word, he quietly slipped upstairs to his room.

* * *

"Who's on the phone?" Sam asked Chuny as she watched Luka struggle to hear with one hand covering his exposed ear.

"Africa, I think. He planning on going back?"

"Not that I know of." She looked on from a distance, cautiously, not wanting to interfere.

"Hey, when do you guys leave?" Chuny poked Sam in the shoulder with the eraser end of her pencil to get her attention. "I said when does your vacation begin?"

"Ah… I'm off tomorrow. Luka's working twelve and we leave early Thursday morning."

"I bet he's sticking you with the packing."

"Now, that's not such a bad thing. I'm packing while he's at work. Get to bed early, up early and we're out of here."

Luka hung up and walked briskly into the lounge, Sam following on his heels.

"Luka, who was on the phone?"

"Maggie."

"Who's that?

"Maggie Doyle. She's the doctor in charge of the camp clinic."

"She have news on Amanda's father?"

"She didn't even know why Sean came back to the states."

"And this Bob guy?"

"Soldiers say they heard he'd been killed. But the locals don't believe it." He sat at the table and idly played with some fast food ketchup packets left behind. "This doesn't feel right. I'm going to call Carter."

Sam stopped his hand before it even got to the telephone. "He's probably sleeping. Luka, please. Just let it be." Sitting down next to him she held his hand with both of hers. "Is everything okay at the camp?"

"Like nothing happened," he said. "The connection is bad, though. Doesn't last long."

"That happens, doesn't it?"

Luka nodded and pulled her hands towards his face, planting a soft kiss on the back of each hand. "I'm just worried."

"I know. Give it time."

Amanda skipped through the huge house eventually reaching the kitchen. "Emily, are we ready?"

"Don't you look beautiful." she marveled. Amanda had put on a dress, the only one she owned, and a pair of black Mary-Jane shoes over her white tights. "You did a wonderful job with the table. Why don't you tell Dr. John that dinner will be served soon."

Her shoes clicked over the hard marble floor, then tapped up the staircase to the second floor. Amanda neglected to ask which room was Carter's and ended up looking in each door as she hummed her way down the hallway until she opened the last one and spied him sound asleep in bed. She had never seen such a sophisticated, elaborate four poster bed before and walked around it admiring the size and beauty before finally approaching Carter's still face.

"Emily says it's time for dinner," she whispered with no obvious results as Carter remained motionless in his state of deep sleep. "Hey," she said a little louder. Finally she reached down and with both hands on his chest, shook him. "_It's time to get up_," she shouted.

His hands reached up in amazing speed and firmly grabbed the child's forearms frightening her into a loud gasp, but somehow her resiliency allowed her to remain still enough to wait until Carter had woken up.

"**Get... out**," he managed in a half asleep but firm voice without releasing Amanda's arms. His face reddened and he seethed through his clenched jaw, puffing his cheeks out with every angry breath.

"Emily, says it's time for dinner." Somehow she managed to speak calmly and stay focused. "Dr. Carter?"

Finally as she tried to wiggle out of his grip, his eyes fluttered and he squeezed them open and shut a few times as he regained his focus. When he realized what he was doing - that he was holding Amanda's arms so tightly that her hands had darkened from the pressure - he drew in a ragged breath and released her. "I'm sorry. I must have been dreaming."

"Emily told me to get you," she said quietly, reclaiming her arms with dignity and walking out of the room, with one last look back at him over her shoulder as she closed the door.

Carter shook his head in disbelieving self horror at what he had awoken to, or rather what he had done _while _asleep. He didn't even know what he had been dreaming about. Wiping away the remnants of sleep from his eyes, he stepped into the shower and buried his face in the stream of water letting the coldness bring him back to a full state of alertness before finally relaxing enough in the gradual warmth the old pipes finally brought to him. He put his hands against the tiled wall, leaning into them, hoping to alleviate the very slight trembling from within. Looking down at his flaccid member, he joked to himself, _used to be a time that a warm shower between girlfriends meant some solo action for you_!

He shaved and even put on a dress shirt and tie. It was time to give Kerry Weaver what she wanted, even if it was nothing more than a properly wrapped package called _Dr. John Truman Carter_, regardless of what was inside. As a side thought, he carefully folded DeRaad's scripts and put them in his pocket with his wallet.

At the bottom of the stairs, he put his suit coat on and grabbed a set of keys from a drawer in the console. "Emily," he shouted towards the kitchen, "I'm taking the Jag. See you in the morning."

"Dr. John, Amanda has dressed the dining room table for you," she said with a hint in her voice as she rounded the corner from the kitchen. "Couldn't you stay for just a bit?"

He was reluctant, but sauntered into the formal dining room nonetheless. There, properly attired in a very girly party dress, was the red headed, freckle faced Amanda sitting down at a very formally set table.

"Gamma's good china," he remarked with contention to Emily standing in the doorway to the butler's pantry.

"It's not doing any good in storage."

Carter nodded. He understood, but didn't agree with Emily. "You and Emily have a good dinner," he told the girl, blatantly ignoring the two dinners served at the table as he buttoned his cuffs. "I have to get to work. I'll see you in the morning."

Amanda sat with a stone cold face. The face of a child who grew up with disappointment. A face Carter should have identified with, had he looked at her.

"Your General Sheridan wasn't really a hero you know," she threw out at him with a hint of feminine vengeance.

"And how do you know this?"

"I like to read, and you have lots of books." She knew he didn't want her in the library, but it was a dig at his psyche that she also knew would work to her advantage. "After the civil war he went to Missouri where he took Indians and forced them to live on reservations. Like jails."

"It's what he knew. It's just what they did back then. And he was following orders. Sometimes you have to do what you're told to do and trust that people are looking out for your best interest."

"Even if it's wrong?"

"Sometimes." Carter turned and walked to the back of the house and garage entrance. "See you ladies in the morning."

_(A few lines from song lyrics for 'When I Look in Your Eyes' by Leslie Bricusse, Johnny Mandell and sung by Diana Krall previously properly attributed, have been deleted on 5/03/05 due to new regulations by site administrators. Complete original text of this fic can be found at LUKAFIC)_

The phone was ringing. Looking on the display, Luka knew right away it was Sam. She had called him twice already reminding him not to forget to pack this or that. He let the answering machine pick it up… again. He'd let her assume he was in a deep sleep. She knew he was a deep sleeper - had to physically shake him when his pager went off. But as he sat on the edge of the bed fully intent on getting a good nights sleep - starting 2 hours ago - he couldn't get his mind off of Colleen, by way of Amanda.

When he closed his eyes on the EL he saw Colleen at the Midway talking with the students, taking their pictures, then dancing with Carter and whispering in his ear. When he closed his tired eyes between charts at the hospital he saw Colleen hustling to get that one last picture of the mother mourning her son Manny's tragic death. When he closed his eyes in bed he saw Colleen in bed with him in her pure nakedness as she exuded raw lust for him.

And when someone at the hospital knocked over a ladder in the hallway he heard the gunshot that ended her life and saw the picture of Amanda she had kept in that book among her few scant belongings she dragged along with her on her gypsy journalist life.

Of all the things that could keep him from Sam, it was the ghost of Colleen and her near clone of a daughter that seemed to be winning, and he had to keep the details from her… from them… at all cost.

Another day and he would be off with Sam and Alex on their mystery vacation. Luka didn't care where, as long as it was away from the hospital, away from the reminders of Colleen. Somewhere that for just a week or two he could pretend to start things anew with Sam, and to be something to Alex other than his mother's boyfriend. He was wide awake staring up at the ceiling, looking around his bedroom and taking mental notes on what needed to be cleaned or fixed. That same cobweb was still on the ceiling fan. A crack in the plaster over the window needed to be fixed. It was the same list he had created in his head the previous two nights, with no new additions. It was a thorough list.

His phone was ringing again.

**  
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON**

The second night shift in a row, back home and straight to bed was all something Carter had grown accustom to over the years. Waking up to a precocious and vibrant ten year old was definitely _not _a daily event. He had forgotten how well sound traveled in the hollow of the house. Even though he had set his alarm, his body had woken him early for his half night shift, perhaps by way of the sound of Amanda downstairs entertaining herself.

Since he left for work the night before, he hadn't even seen her. A quick shower and shave, his dark pants, white shirt and silk tie, and Carter was ready once again for work.

"Good afternoon, Dr. John." Emily greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. "Sleeping well?"

"Better, yes," Carter answered. "How are things going with the girl?"

"The _girl's _name is Amanda, and she needs a mother," she carefully scolded him.

"Why Emily," Carter countered humorously, "are you trying to marry me off?"

"If it would put a bounce back in your step, then I'd be glad to go wife shopping for you." Emily gently put her hand on his arm and gave him a soft smile. "Your friend phoned again."

Carter smiled himself. "I'll return the call from the hospital."

Music filled the downstairs, but this time it was Faure's _Pavane , _the piece that reminded him sadly of his grandparents' passing. _Maria must be cleaning in the library again_, he thought. But a quick look found the room empty. As he turned around in the foyer, his ears focused on the ballroom. "I've asked Maria not to play that," he said out loud almost incredulously.

Emily followed him as he made his way to the ballroom where he found Amanda wearing one of Emily's oversized aprons under the vest he had discarded the day before by the fireplace. Her face sported exaggerated make-up: rosy cheeks, blue eye-lids and subtle pink lips. She was dancing to the music, flitting around like a ballerina.

"Leave her be, John," Emily quietly ordered him from behind. "She's a little girl, and little girls need fantasy. Go on, get to know her. She hasn't bitten yet." Emily turned to go back to her chores leaving Carter alone in the ballroom doorway.

It wasn't until she had twirled around the third time that Amanda opened her eyes and saw that she had an audience of one. "Isn't it pretty?"

Carter managed a reluctant smile and single nod as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Did you know that there is a form of dance in every culture? That's what my dad told me." Amanda scooted over to the small cd player on the piano bench and pressed a button, repeating Faure's piece. "Let's pretend that you are the clarinet - it's real strong. And I'll be the lady cello. Come on!" Grabbing Carter's hand, she drew him to the center of the nearly empty ballroom and began her dance, holding both of his hands. "You don't smell anymore."

"Thank you."

"And you look real handsome all dressed up."

"I'm not really dressed up. Just ready for work." The ballet part he wasn't so sure of, so he let Amanda do most of it herself, occasionally stepping it up to give her a twirl or spin.

"Don't you love how this sounds in here? It echoes. I can just imagine a party with all the ladies dressed up in ball gowns, and the men in tuxedos. Have you ever worn a tuxedo?"

"Mm hmm." Carter just let her take off - didn't want to interrupt her, though he couldn't quite take his eyes off of her in that vest. He closed his eyes for just a moment as they spun around holding hands, and in that moment he saw…

"My mom had a vest just like this. Where did you get it?"

"Someone in Africa gave it to me."

"That's cool. My favorite picture of my mom… she's wearing her vest and has her cameras…" Amanda stopped in the middle of the music as she spoke openly for the first time looking straight up into Carter's eyes, "… and she's got all these kids around her. She's holding a little boy on her lap, and hugging him…"

Without thinking, Carter reached down and scooped her up in his arms, spinning around and finishing her dance. "Your mother took Polaroid pictures of the children at the refugee camp, children who had never before seen themselves, even in a mirror. She gave them a piece of themselves that nobody else could have."

But _she _wasn't the one on her mom's lap.

"How about you keep the vest," he offered.

"You're all done using it?"

"All done."

The song was over, Carter put her back on her feet and adjusted his shirt. "I have to go in early today because Luka and I are having dinner with Sean."

"Oh."

It was apparent to Carter that, in her own way, Amanda was slightly disappointed. "But I'm only working half a shift. Starting tomorrow I go back on days. How about you and Emily plan a formal dinner in the dining room for tomorrow night." Carter leaned over and whispered, "and make sure she shows you the call bell on the underside of the table. You press that and people appear - get you _anything _you want."

Carter softly touched her cheek and smiled before turning to leave the room.

"Promise?" Amanda asked.

"Promise."

As Carter approached the front door, the bell rang. Amanda ran ahead of him and Emily who had dutifully exited the kitchen at the sound. Using both small hands to open the door, Amanda was met by a small statured business man wearing round eyeglasses, and a perpetual drop of sweat on the end of his nose.

"Hello… ah, little girl. Is Dr. Carter at home?"

Carter finally caught up with Amanda and quickly dismissed the looming security guard over the smaller man's shoulders. "Mr. Tyson. What brings you here?"

"Papers from the Foundation that need your signature." He handed Carter a stack of envelopes, none of which he was too eager to go over. "Among other business."

"Who are you?" Amanda inquisitively asked, interrupting the conversation.

"I am Mr. Norman Tyson, an associate of Dr. Carter's," he replied as he took out his handkerchief and cleaned his steamed up glasses. "Now be a good little girl and run along while we discuss grown-up matters."

"I've heard of you. My friend Sean says that you're an eejit and a bloody dry shite." Amanda wasn't eager to leave the two men alone. "What does that mean?"

Squatting down, Carter couldn't hide his amusement as he told Amanda to go with Emily into the kitchen. "I'll see you tomorrow," he chuckled, "Remember what I said."

* * *

"Who's that in the lounge with Kovac and Carter?" Kerry was peering in through the small window in the door.

"Sean Griffin." Susan had just come out of the lounge with a cup of coffee. "He's from the organization that they worked for in Africa."

"Are they going back?"

"I don't think so. He's in town for a couple days. They're just getting something to eat."

Laughter bellowed out into the ER with the door opening and closing as other staff members went in and out. The three men sat at the table eating a fine selection of barbecue from Carsons. Stories were told and re-told, pictures gone over and time generally caught up on.

"…an eejit?" Sean sputtered in hysterics. "She really said that?"

"Hi."

The men hadn't noticed Kerry's presence beside them until she spoke up. The laughing halted and all three looked at her hoping that she'd say what she had come in for, then leave post-haste.

"Just wanted to touch base with you two before I left," she said while looking over her glasses. "Luka, I need you to sign off on your time sheet, and I still have to speak with you, Carter."

Both doctors smiled politely and nodded.

"What do you have there?" she asked Carter as though trying too hard to be something other than… well… Kerry Weaver.

"An Irish phrase book Sean gave me." Carter looked down and tried with all his might, and definite lack of natural ability, to give her one sentence. "Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat."

Kerry smiled and nodded herself, polite yet tolerant of that which she couldn't possibly comprehend. "Okay. Well then, enjoy your dinner."

Once she made it back out of the lounge, Carter and Sean nearly fell out of their chairs laughing.

"I 'bout peed my britches," Sean got out all red faced.

"What?" Luka was itching to know.

Carter looked back down at the book and read out loud, "May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the devil."

"It's a curse," Sean added. "But the question is, does she deserve it?"

"I don't know," Luka answered, "are there any that work quicker?"

"She's a cute red headed lass, eh? Single?"

"Digging at the bottom, my friend," Carter gave him. "Aim higher. You deserve better."

"Sorry. Not single." Luka raised his eyebrows, clue-like. "She has a wife at home."

"Ach, no. Another carpet muncher." Sean slapped his head as he got to his feet. "I'm off. You two blackguards have to get to work. I am going to go get me some money at my room and find a pub to my liking. I've a throat on me that only a pint will cure." As the three got to their feet, Sean quickly embraced Luka. "You have a great vacation. You are looking awfully tired today - looks like you need to get away."

"I'm working a half shift tomorrow, noon to six." Carter said. "When do you leave?"

"I'm hopping on KLM 612 at five or so."

"Connects in Netherlands then Nairobi," Carter remembered. "Nice flight."

"I'll stop in with your Jeep and phone before I leave."

"About Amanda," Sean added before leaving the two doctors at the ambulance bay, "I'll do everything I can to find Bob. And I'll get her grandmother's information to you tomorrow before I leave."

"Hey," Luka smiled, "A big hug for Toomay and the kids. Even Maggie," he jested. "Take care of our camp."

"I will, my friend." Sean gave the taller Luka a firm two fisted handshake before finally trotting off down the street. "Enjoy yourself with your lady friend. Be safe."

Carter and Luka stood in the warmth of the late day spring sun peeking from behind some ominous clouds rolling in off the lake, watching their friend disappear around the corner.

"He's right," Carter said quietly to avoid other people milling around from hearing him, "you do look tired. Not so put together. You okay?"

"Haven't been sleeping well lately, I guess. I've got plenty of time to make up for it after today." Luka absent mindedly pulled at his scrub top he had thrown over the wrinkled t-shirt he found on top of his laundry pile that morning. It didn't do anything for the bags under his eyes, though. "You're looking dapper. Well rested, unlike me."

Carter pulled his hand out of his pocket and gave the two vials of meds a little shake to draw Luka's attention to them. "Following doctor's orders."

"Good." Luka gave Carter a pat on the back as they went back inside. "Good to see you're in control."

"Long day?"

"A domestic dispute at a family reunion steamrolled. Someone shot Grandma, now it's a full on gang war." Luka pointed to the board. "We've already had three GSW's, two stabbings and a beating by plumber's tools, all related. But it's been quiet since about four. Maybe we're out of the woods." Luka sighed as he spied the large stack of charts at the Admit desk and the just as portentous line of med students and residents standing behind them waiting to do rounds. "Time to wrap up this shift."

Luka finally finished rounds, then sped through the charts with Carter before clocking out and heading for the door.

"I am out of here," he declared to Carter as he put his coat on and walked through the bay doors.

Dusk was upon them as Carter caught up to Luka halfway to the street. "Walking?"

"Sam has my SUV. She's packing it up so we can get out of here early."

"Where are you going?" A stiff gust of wind pushed into them with the rumble of thunder in the distance. Carter looked up at the sky as rain began falling, scattered sprinkles at first, then a steady stream.

Luka shrugged and smiled. "Beats me. She's made it a surprise. But Artie knows."

"Artie? The …"

"Yeah."

Sirens in the distance came closer. Carter began walking backwards to give the ambulance room. "Have fun. Think of me!"

"_Carter_," Malik called from he doorway running to meet him in the rain, "Carter, multiple GSW coming in. ETA is now."

The ambulance roared in and came to an abrupt stop as the back door flew open.

"Multiple GSW just down the road," Doris yelled out. "Got a line started in the rig. Pushing in fluids as fast as he's losing blood."

The gurney was pulled out and wheels locked down. Blood was everywhere and Carter wasn't prepared. No gown, but Malik did give him a pair of gloves. As he looked at his hands while putting them on, he automatically began assessing the patient from the head down.

"LUKA!" Carter screamed in the direction Luka had walked in. "_LUKA_! Holy shit." He couldn't believe his eyes. "**_LUKA_**!"

By the time Luka had rushed back to the bay, they were going through the doors. "What is it? You need more hands?"

"It's Sean. He's been shot." Carter wasn't sure Luka heard him over the clap of thunder. "_It's_ _Sean_!"


	9. Chapter 9 Give me the Bullet

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
_by Sharon R._**

**Chapter Nine**

By the time Luka had rushed back to the bay, they were going through the doors. "What is it? You need more hands?"

"It's Sean. He's been shot." Carter wasn't sure Luka heard him over the clap of thunder. "_It's_ _Sean_!" They were half way in the door when Carter realized Luka was still outside in the rain staring at them. "_Luka_, **come on**."

Once they had made it inside the hospital, the bright lights made the extent of the wounds shockingly clear to those attending the patient.

"Come on, _come on, Zadro_," Carter yelled, "Give me the bullet."

"We don't know a hell of a lot yet. We were flagged down by the motel manager. So far just multiple GSW's to the torso and right hip."

As they made it into Trauma-1 and moved Sean over to the gurney, the nurses started stripping away his clothes, Haleh relayed the doctors' orders by phone to the respective departments.

"Get a portable x-ray.., get surgery down here - NOW," Luka demanded. "CBC, Chem-7, PT, PTT, U/A, type and cross-match, hang six units of O-neg for now." This was no average trauma. This was personal, and for each wound Luka discovered, he winced away the worry so that he could focus.

"Looks like a good one, kids." A cocky Morris made himself available and walked into an awaiting trauma gown Lydia held open for him, gloves handed to him.

"Breath sounds diminished on _both _sides," Carter pitched angrily. "Why didn't you tube him in the field?"

"What have you got?" Kerry asked, adding to the chaos. "Somebody get Dr. Carter a gown," she ordered, noticing Carter's blood covered shirt and pants, but Carter, having zoned somewhat back into PCRC mode, ignored Haleh as she stood by him with the disposable yellow gown.

"We scooped and ran," Doris told them. "We got there before the P.D."

"Wait a minute," Kerry interrupted, "you entered an unsecured crime scene?"

"_He was crawling out of his hotel room door_," Zadro countered, "_right in front of us_. We couldn't leave him there while we sat in the bus. Uniforms were right behind us."

"I heard this guy got popped at the Bang Me Bonnie Motel," Morris joked with a smirk. "I'll be damned if he won't live long enough to confess to his wife."

"_Get out_," Luka screamed, as he pulled the infuser over to Sean's side.

"Hey, I'm supposed to run codes in here tonight," Morris said pushing himself between Carter and Lydia, neither one appreciating the intrusion. "Looks like I got here just in time for the party to begin."

"Leave," Carter added while struggling to get the central line started. "**I don't want you in here**."

Once Luka had passed off the infuser to Haleh, he stepped away from Sean and briskly walked into Morris, shoving him with his hands - once, twice - _hard_, not stopping until he had handily removed the resident from the trauma room. "**Stay out**."

"Hey!" Kerry stepped into the trauma, grabbing a gown of her own. "That's not necessary."

"Dr. Weaver," Haleh gently mentioned, "the patient is a friend of theirs."

Kerry moved in and looked down into the face of the Irishman who she had seen earlier having dinner with Carter and Luka in the lounge. "Are you sure you two want to do this?"

"What do you have?" Elizabeth Corday joined the trauma. "You called for surgery?" she asked again in her very British voice when she got no answer.

"Multiple GSW," Luka finally gave Elizabeth. "So far we have two to the chest, one to the abdomen, and one to the right hip." Luka assessed the readings on the monitors as they blipped on finally. "BP is at 75. Puls/Ox down to 88."

As the fluids raised his blood pressure just enough to make him coherent, Sean's eyes fluttered, he raised his hand in confusion and moaned loudly as Elizabeth palpated his abdomen, then rolled him to his side to look for exit wounds.

"Alright, let's get chest tubes in." The surgeon ordered. "Prep his right side first. Let's see what kind of relief that brings him. Take x-rays and consider tubing him on the left _after _we take him upstairs."

Sean reached up and grabbed Carter's shirt, pulling him down to speak to him. "Two," he got out. "Two… and like razz…." Groaning as the surgeon invaded his chest cavity, the large forceps clamping onto the drainage tube as it rudely forced its way between his ribs, Sean's eyes widened at the sight of his own bloodied hand holding Carter's ID badge that remained in his grip after he pulled it off, tearing the shirt's pocket in the process.

"Sean, you know what happened?" Carter asked. Sean nodded as he struggled to breath through his clenched teeth. "You've been shot at least four times. We're going to take good care of you. Okay? I promise."

Again, Sean nodded. "You're… the best… in all of Africa."

"Pretty soon I'm going to give you some medicine to make you sleepy," Carter added. "When you wake up, there will be a tube in your throat to help you breath."

"Intubate…" Sean corrected him as though telling Carter to use proper medical lingo instead of layman's terms.

"Yeah," Carter smiled at him, "I'm going to intubate you."

Sean struggled to get the words out as Haleh placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Best friends… too. Best blokes." His eyes moved back and forth from Carter to Luka and back.

"Okay folks," Elizabeth announced, "we've got at least 800cc from his chest already. Considering the quantity of penetrating trauma here, that means we red-line him to the OR."

"You want a one-shot IVP?" Luka asked Elizabeth.

"No. We'll do that in the OR. Get in that foley, drop an NG, and stabilize that airway. He needs to move."

"Any allergies, Sean?" Luka asked taking Carter's place who had moved down to check on the hip injury. Sean shook his head. "Okay, you're not going to like this," he gently told him as he watched one of the nurses prepare the foley. "We have to put a catheter into your penis."

As the catheter was threaded up Sean's urethra it was obvious by his lack of response that he felt no pain at all, prompting Carter to move to the end of the bed and check his feet for reflexes. "Positive Babinski." Carter watched Luka's eyes for the same masked feeling of despair he was experiencing.

"_X-ray - shooting_," the tech yelled out as all but Carter and Luka stepped out while the shots were taken.

Luka's assessment with the SonoSite was not much better. "He has fluid in the subphrenic space and in Douglas."

As Haleh stood ready to inject Sean with the Propofol and Succs, Carter grabbed the laryngoscope and endotracheal tube from the tray next to him. "Okay, Sean, we can't wait any longer." He nodded at Haleh to begin the medication.

"Two…," Sean mumbled, "two and like razz… looking for…"

"Come on people," Elizabeth called out as Carter secured the tube in place, removed the stylet, and listened with his stethoscope for proper placement, "we have four entrance wounds and only two exits. We still have two inside and the bleeding isn't going to stop on its own." With the side rails of the bed locked up in place, portable monitors placed between Sean's legs, Elizabeth hurried to get him upstairs. "Call the OR," she ordered, "have them standby with ten units type specific and five of FFP. Page in the cardio-thoracic team and make sure bypass is available with a perfusionist. Page ortho too, but tell them they can come at their leisure. The hip will have to wait."

Rounding the corner to the elevator, Luka stopped Elizabeth long enough to ask one more question. "You think one of the bullets got his spinal cord?"

"Paralysis is the least of his worries at this point. Depending on the factors involved, it _could _be temporary, but highly unlikely. We'll know more when we get inside. Let's just concentrate on the next twenty-four hours." Squeezing in the elevator next to Haleh, Elizabeth stopped the doors from closing on her as she shouted out one more order to the nurses staying behind in the ER. "Tell radiology I want the wet reads of those films up in the OR before we cut."

With the elevator doors closed, the lack of commotion around Carter and Luka was suddenly and oddly deafening.

"Excuse me, you work on the shooting victim?" The voice came from behind them as they stood strangely transfixed on the elevator, both managing an abrupt drop in adrenalin.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, "did he make it?"

Two uniformed police officers with notebooks out, greeted them as they turned around to go back to…go back to…

"Did you get his name?"

"His name is Sean Griffin," Carter finally told them.

"Did you find any drugs on him, Doc?"

"No," Luka answered walking away, Carter close by.

"Any weapons?"

"**_No_**." As Luka turned around, the cop nearly walked into him. "_No _drugs, _no _weapons. He is a friend of ours. A humanitarian relief worker."

"Staying at the Blink Bonnie?" the cop smirked.

Luka shoved him into the wall with his forearm and managed to get his face within inches of the cop's. "What are you saying? Huh? That he was a druggie? A pimp? Does he even _look _like a gang banger?"

As the other cop tried to pull Luka away from his colleague, Carter stepped in, putting his hands firmly on Luka's shoulders. "Okay, _okay_." Looking straight into his eyes he managed to calm him enough to step away. "Let's just… let's just calm down." They were lucky that doctors and nurses, firefighters and cops worked close enough together to give each other breaks when need be. Otherwise, Luka would have been kissing the floor in cuffs.

"Gentlemen, let's move this in here," Kerry said as she held the door open to the empty trauma-2 adjoining the room where they had taken care of Sean, now being cleaned up. "Now, what can we do for you?"

"How about answer some questions, for a start?" the larger cop asked. His partner hung back, his ego still bruised by Luka's introduction. With silence as his answer, he started in. "Okay, you say you knew the victim?"

"We _know _him," Carter corrected him, "he's not dead." The cop nodded a reluctant apology. "He was in town on business, last minute. He didn't care where he stayed, isn't important to him."

"The Blink Bonnie…?" the cop repeated.

"It's a five star hotel compared to the bug infested dirt floors he's slept on in Congolese refugee camps." Luka was pissed. He was pissed and he was going to take it out on whoever entered his zone. "Ever been there? It's on the African continent."

It was a bad day to be a cop at County General. Luckily for them, a courtesy knock on the door broke the tension as it was opened by another man, clad in a tan overcoat, PD badge displayed on his belt buckle. "Hi. I'm Detective Bill Daniels, Chicago PD, lead investigator for the case. You guys can get back to the scene now." The two uniforms put their notebooks away and gladly left the room. "So you know the guy?"

Neither Luka or Carter felt like talking and stared elsewhere solemnly.

"Try to answer his questions." Kerry tried her best to level the atmosphere. "Help him out. I'll leave you alone and check on your friend's condition."

"Can't tell you much." Luka had waited for Kerry to leave before finally talking, his arms folded in front of him. "Sean is a regional director for the _Alliance de Medecines Internationale, _an agency that sets up medical clinics in third world countries. We last saw him five months ago at a refugee camp in Uganda where we were working."

"Why was he here?"

"Business," Carter jumped in. "My family's foundation sponsors the camp in Pakwach. Do you have any information about the shooting?"

"So far it looks like he walked in on a robbery. Can you tell me, is he traveling with anyone? Is there someone I should talk to?"

Carter avoided the question. "He had dinner with us here tonight and then he was going to get a beer. His flight out was supposed to be tomorrow."

"Alright, looks like your friend surprised them. Whoever it was went through his room and tore it up, probably pissed at the lack of loot. It was a sloppy robbery gone bad. Didn't even take any of his money." With his collar of his overcoat flipped back up, Detective Daniels was on his way back out the door. "We'll be in touch."

Luka and Carter were left in Trauma-2 to watch as staff cleaned the bloodied mess left behind in the other room. Sean's blood. Walking back in through the adjoining doors, Carter bent down and picked up his ID badge, rather humbled by the red fingerprint Sean left behind, and stuffed it in his pants pocket. Luka joined him and the two stood helplessly, all the while the gears in their heads turning over and over. Carter cocked his head slightly as things began to click. He walked out of the trauma room, then let his legs pick up speed as he ran out of the hospital into the ambulance bay in the pouring rain. "Detective," he yelled as the man was getting into his Audi. "_Hey, stop_. How about a cell phone? I loaned him my cell phone."

The detective sat in his car, ducking the rain, and looked at his notes. "No. Doesn't look like there was one recovered at the scene. Perps will probably score thirty bucks for it on the street." The guy started his engine and closed his door, not to eager to hang aroundthe hospital. "Look, don't read too much into it. Random crimes happen to the best of people. I gotta get back."

As the detective drove off, the two uniformed cops pulled up in their cruiser. The larger got out and handed Carter a bag as he stood under the awning over the entrance. "Thought you might like these. I'm sorry but your vehicle is going to have to be impounded as evidence."

Opening the bag, Carter found his scarf, a handful of coins and the driver's manual. "These were in my Jeep," he said confused as Luka came out and joined him.

"Yep. Since it got broken into, it's part of the crime scene now."

"Back up." Carter waved his hand in front of him. "My Jeep was broken into?"

"Yeah. The detective didn't tell you? We had to run the plates since you didn't have any paperwork inside. Looks like amateurs did this. The car key was left in plain site in the guy's room. A whole lot easier to steal a car with keys, if you ask me. Anything valuable in the car?"

"No."

"Well, that's all they recovered, so I guess you're lucky."

Carter watched the police car drive off before finally running back into the ER. "Lydia," he yelled as she was escorting a new patient into an exam room, "Sean's personal belongings. Where are they?"

"In an evidence bag at the Admit desk, right where I put them. There," she pointed at the large sealed orange bag behind Carter. "Wasn't much. His clothes and a wallet."

"No cell phone?"

Lydia shook her head and left with the patient, leaving Carter to break the seal and rummage in the bag.

"What are you doing?" Luka asked.

"No cell phone. My cell phone was taken, and the registration and insurance cards from my Jeep. That's all." Luka's eyes squinted as he slowly began to digest what Carter was telling him. "_Nothing _taken from Sean's room, his wallet isn't even touched." Carter opened Sean's wallet filled with at least three different currencies and a few credit cards. "But his room was gone over with a fine toothed comb."

"They're looking for something Sean didn't have, but you do?" Luka surmised before finally realizing what the valuable object was that was being sought after.

Carter bolted from the desk, through the maze of staff and equipment in the ER and into the lounge. He struggled to get his locker open, struggled with the combination, twice slamming the locker with his hand in frustration.

"What are you doing?" Luka asked.

"_Shit_!" This time he kicked the metal locker, before finally getting the combination right. "Gotta get home. I have to get to her."

Luka pulled his own cell phone from where it was clipped to his belt. "What was that detective's name? I'll call him."

"NO!" Abby and Susan walked into the lounge just as Carter found his car keys. "I'll tell you later."

"We thought you two might want some company," Abby said.

"You have news on Sean?" Luka asked nervously.

"He's on bypass," Susan reported. "They're dealing with damage to his heart and lungs. Anspaugh is working on the bleeding in his abdomen."

Both guys stood still taking in the information while also trying to keep their cool.

"It's going to be a long night." Abby put her hand on Carter's arm. "Kerry is going to stay on and finish your shift. If you want to go home…"

"Thank you, I'll… ah… take her up on that." Nodding once at Luka and raising his eyebrows, Carter walked briskly out of the lounge, eventually making it to the desk. "Frank, call your buddies at the PD and ask for a Detective Bill Daniels."

While Frank made the call, Carter jingled his car keys nervously. Luka was still perplexed and stood to the side waiting for Carter's explanation.

"Sorry. No Detective Bill Daniels on the force. Just a Cathy Danielson." Frank held the phone over his shoulder. "Want to talk to her?"

"No," Carter threw out as he practically ran out the door.

"John, wait," Luka called out, following him all the way to his car in the parking garage. "What are you doing?"

"Get in the car. In fact, you drive." Carter walked to the other side of the Jag and threw Luka the keys. "I need your cell phone. We're going to my house, but don't take Sheridan. I'll show you a short cut."

As Carter directed Luka through the city, he dialed up the house.

"_Carter residence_."

"Emily, listen, it's very important that you listen to me."

"_Hello, Dr. John," Emily answered. "Can I do something for you_?"

"Where is Amanda?"

"_Playing in the library. Now, don't get upset. She likes to read…"_

"Okay," Carter said, ignoring what Emily assumed would piss him off. "Please, just don't answer the… Emily? Hello?"

The house lights flickered as Emily held out the phone, then pressed a few numbers hoping to get Carter back. "Hello, Dr. John…?"

"Who's on the phone?" Amanda asked. "Is that Dr. Carter's friend again?"

"Never you mind. It appears as though we're having phone problems again." The lights flickered again, and Amanda raced to see who was knocking at the front door.

Carter redialed the number, then closed the cell in disgust. "Shit."

"What?" Luka asked.

"Line went dead. Now it's out of service."

"Call the police."

"_No_. Luka, that detective didn't take the evidence bag, yet he knew that Sean's money hadn't been stolen. The paramedics scooped him from the scene before the cops got there. So how did that detective know that Sean still had all his money? And if he was the lead investigator, why did he leave the evidence bag? Come on, Luka. We work with the cops every day. They would never leave that behind."

Luka squirmed nervously as he cut around corners, blowing one stop light at a dead intersection.

"He conveniently forgot to tell me that my Jeep was broken into. Uniforms gave me everything that was left in the Jeep, except the registration and insurance. So whoever broke into it didn't want to steal it, they left the key in the room. They have my phone, my address."

"The guy asked if Sean was traveling alone." Luka was catching on. "Wanted to know if he needed to talk to someone."

"And how many cops do you know that drive an eighty thousand dollar car?"

With each nail hit on the head, Luka pressed the accelerator a little more. He could drive fast cars, he had experience, but his emotions were beginning to dictate his speed.

"Frank called the PD and this Daniels isn't even on the force." Carter reflected back to what should have been his first clue. "Before I tubed Sean he said something like _there were two, looked like razzers_."

"_Damn it_," Luka yelled hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, "That's what he calls cops - razzers. We were looking out for middle east terrorists like some bad movie."

"So are the security guards at the house. They aren't looking for cops."

Carter kept trying to call the Carter mansion but got the same canned 'out of service' recording. Finally, he plunged his hands in his pants pockets looking for something.

"What's wrong?" Luka asked.

"My wallet." Carter searched every pocket, finding nothing. "_Shit_! It's in my locker. The security guards' phone number is in it."

Traffic on the country road slowed just before they reached the entrance to the estate. Uncharacteristically, cars were stopped behind one another as the driving rain that had inundated the region finally tapered off to a light mist. Luka impatiently honked the horn as the car in front of him didn't budge. Poking his head out his window to see what was holding up the traffic, he could barely see two car lengths ahead of him through the fog rolling in from the meadows that framed the landscape.

"What the…?" Carter opened his own door and stood by the car, also unable to see anything.

"Looks like traffic is stopped on both sides."

"Drive on the left," Carter ordered, "just go up on the other side. The driveway is right up there."

Luka didn't argue, he just jerked the wheel and hit the accelerator, passing all of the other cars standing still on their right, hoping not to hit an oncoming car head on. As Carter told him to slow down in anticipation of the entrance to the estate, a police car with red and blue strobing rack lights parked across the road brought them to a stop.

"The phone is out at the house, a fake cop at the hospital, and now cops have the traffic blocked in front of the estate," Carter listed out loud to Luka. "Does this feel right to you?"

"I don't know."

A police officer approached the car and bent down to talk to Luka. "You can't be driving on the wrong side of the road like that," he said, his face obscured by his hat. "What's your hurry?"

"We're trying to get to my friend's house," Luka patiently started. "He needs to get to his family." Okay. Emily qualified as family for Carter.

The cop marveled at the Jaguar, then returned his attention to Luka. "This _your _car?"

"No, it's my friend's."

"I don't like this," Carter mumbled.

Grabbing his large Mag flashlight, the cop scanned Luka first, then shone the bright light on Carter. "And you are…?"

"John Carter. I live right up there," he said, pointing towards the estate entrance not ten yards away. "What's the problem? Why the roadblock?"

"Let me see your ID, diver's license," the cop said, maintaining his focus on Carter.

"I… ah… don't have my wallet with me. Really, this is my house."

"CX-12 to 657," the cop spoke almost secretly into his radio hooked to his shoulder, "I have a 10-48 at the south roadblock." Luka noticed his hand go to the gun holster and unsnap the leather buckle securing the firearm. "Sir, turn off the engine and hand me the keys."

"This really isn't necessary," Carter complained.

Luka did as he was told and gave the officer the keys.

"What are you doing?" Carter whined to Luka.

"In case you haven't noticed, his gun beats my pen light."

"Both of you put your hands on the dashboard." It wasn't difficult. The car was small enough that all they had to do was put their hands in front of them.

As Luka put his hands on the dash, Carter stayed put. "This is ridiculous. We have to get up there."

"Hands on the dashboard, sir. I'm not going to say it again."

Alarmed by the tone of the officer, Luka glanced at Carter, his eyes going straight to where the flashlight was aimed. "John, I think you'd better…"

Just as the second, then third officer arrived, Carter opened his door and stepped out of the car, not slowing down until he had reached the other side. He heard the voices of the cops yelling at him, but the blinding lights kept him from seeing anything.

"Sir, get down on the ground, face first."

"I'm going to go up to the house. You are more than welcome to come with me. Someone can vouch for me there." _Yeah_, Carter thought, _like those two very large and well armed security guards._

"**_Carter_**," Luka yelled as he stayed in the car with the one cop against the door. "Just stop, **_stop_**!" He was no longer being heard by anybody. "We're doctors at County. See?" He held his ID badge out the window, but again, their focus was no longer on Luka who had a perfect view of what was unfolding. Three cops yelling at Carter, their lights blinding him. Then two more joining them. All with their weapons drawn and propped beneath their flashlights, aimed squarely at Carter… whose pants and torn shirt were covered in Sean's blood, some large spots streaking from the assault of the rain.

Carter didn't listen and instead obliviously turned to walk up the driveway. Tired, emotionally spent, not sure if it was a ruse like back at the hospital with the detective, he put his feet in motion and started striding towards the estate driveway. The sound of several feet close behind dipping in and out of puddles, the leather from the cops' holsters and belts, the assorted paraphernalia attached to their uniforms all rattling, failed to distract him as he hurried on, his focus solely on reaching Amanda. He thought of when he was a kid, when he and Bobby and their cousin Chase would race up the drive. He never won. He never won until after Bobby got sick.

"_Stop - police officers - stop_."

A rut in the driveway bobbled his feet. He caught himself, but felt something fall out of his pocket.

"_Looks like he's on something_," one of the faceless officers yelled.

As a few of the beams of light drifted from Carter down to the pavement where the two vials of medication lay, Carter sighed, put his hands on his hips and dropped his head in frustration. The thought that these cops were the genuine article began to sink in, and he knew that he needed to be calm.

"_Get down_."

With enough of the leftover artificial light still aimed at his chest, he saw for the first time what the cops were seeing.

"_Put your hands behind your head and get down on your knees_."

"You've got to be kidding," he mumbled to himself. Looking back up, he raised one arm to shield his eyes and recognized all of those guns pointed at him.

"_Come on buddy, we don't want to have to use force_."

"Hey look, I have my ID right here." Carter remembered the bloodied County General staff ID he had shoved in his pants pocket in the trauma room.

"**_He's going for his pocket_**."

The voices were closer, shouting at him on top of each other, and then suddenly he felt his body racked in pain.


	10. Chapter 10 Best Blokes

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Ten**

"_Carter_," Luka yelled as he stayed in the car with the one cop against the door.

Another car, this time a county sheriff's deputy, came screaming into the commotion, its lights blazing. Two deputies stepped out - one running towards Carter, the other more senior looking one, joining the officer standing by the Jag.

"Just stop, **_stop_**!" Luka was no longer being heard by anybody. "We're doctors at County. See?" He held his ID badge out the window, but again, their focus was no longer on Luka who had a perfect view of what was unfolding: three cops yelling at Carter, their lights blinding him, then two more joining them. All had their weapons drawn and propped beneath their flashlights, aimed squarely at Carter… whose pants and torn shirt were covered in Sean's blood, some large spots streaking from the assault of the rain.

Finally the two cops walked away towards the first patrol car that had been parked at the roadblock, giving Luka a chance to get out. Running towards the two cops to the side, Luka held out his ID. "Hey, I'm trying to tell you…"

"_Maxwell is stinger equipped_," the senior deputy yelled out paying no attention to Luka. "_Go ahead and take him down_."

"No," Luka yelled, "you don't know what you're doing." Telling cops that they don't know their job will _always _get their full attention.

It seemed like it took a fraction of a second for those two cops to restrain Luka and push him face down onto the hood of the car. With his arms yanked tightly in back of him, his thumbs of each hand held together in an excruciatingly awkward position in the center of his back, Luka tried with all his might to say something - anything, but his head being ground onto the car was forcing his teeth into his lips, tearing the flesh, the blood making him gag as he choked in the air.

"You don't want to interfere with an arrest, pal," the cop said as he pat Luka down, pulling out his wallet, change, a couple pens, pen light and layed them on the hood in front of Luka's face.

"My… my ID," he got out, not sure it was even understandable.

"What ID?"

"Hospital," he groaned through his clenched teeth.

The cops looked at him closer, then glanced around the man, finally finding something on the ground.

"Hey Sarge, look what I found." The younger cop blinded Luka as he shone the flashlight in his face comparing him to the picture on the ID that he had picked up. "He's a doctor at County."

"I'm…," Luka attempted, "… _we… _are… doctors." Finally the hands that held him down let go and he pulled himself upright, spitting the coagulation of blood, flesh and saliva to the ground beside him. "This isn't what it looks like. We just got done treating a patient in the ER, it was messy." Even though the two cops were finally listening to Luka, their reaction to Luka's admission that they were doctors wasn't enough to stop them. "That's John Carter, _from the Carter Estate_," he said pointing to the large manor above them.

"Ah, for shit," the Sergeant complained, "_Hey_…"

The two of them ran to where the cluster of officers pointed their weapons at Carter, only to watch one of the cops shoot him with a taser gun. As every muscle in Carter's body contracted with the fifty thousand volts shooting through the barbed wires pinching into his skin, he fell to the ground with a thud, a silent scream trapped in his open mouth.

Once the five second shock ceased, one officer dug a knee into the small of Carter's back, while another practically kneeled on his head and a third pulled his arms back and cuffed them. The pain from the shock subsided, but the effects from falling to the ground like a piece of lumber, then sat on by three muscle bound cops was just beginning.

"_Off_," the older cop ordered as he fished his way to the center of the crowd, "get off him. He's a doc at County. The blood is from a patient. He lives here."

Luka followed the sergeant to where Carter lay, still handcuffed, and lifted up the back of his shirt, pulling out the barbs of the shock wires. Carter winced at the bee stings that the prongs left behind, then grunted and spit out the muck that had invaded his mouth.

"Get these cuffs off," Luka demanded. "Carter, you okay?"

"Ah…"

"Hey Carter? You okay?" Luka repeated.

"Yeah."

Luka helped him sit up, then reached out to the nearest cop and grabbed his flashlight. Shining into Carter's face, then checking him over quickly, he found no obvious injuries. "What hurts?"

"Kind of everything," Carter said, as he stretched and pulled himself together. "My head, shoulder, hip."

"The soreness is from the fall," the sergeant explained. "You may have a dull headache from the shock until the morning."

"Hey, sorry about that doc." Another cop stepped up. "Running from cops is never a good thing. Don't take it personal, eh?"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll understand if I hold a grudge for a couple days."

"Doctor Carter?" a voice called out from behind. "Doc? Is that you?"

The two burly security guards hired to keep watch on the estate stepped into the fray and helped Carter to his feet.

"Why aren't you up at the house?"

"Bad accident took out the phones," AJ, the older security guard said. "Someone came to the door and said a white sports car was involved and we thought it might be you, so we came down to help after we called 9-1-1."

"Anyone hurt?" Carter asked.

"So far just one victim in the car under the pole," the sergeant explained. "Afraid he's DOA. But that white sports car, like yours, caused it then took off. So you can understand the suspicion you brought when you pulled up wearing a good amount of blood and carrying no ID. And then when you took off, well…"

The reason for the police to be hanging out in front of the Carter estate had become painfully obvious to Carter and Luka, but the unease they had arrived with still lingered.

"Let me ask you," Carter said as he pulled the first cop aside who had approached the Jag, "see anyone go in or out of the estate here?"

"Not since I got here about fifteen minutes ago."

"You've been down here the entire time?" Carter turned and asked the hired help incredulously.

"Yeah, about that long." AJ answered, "Didn't see nobody come or go," he spouted. The use of the double negative grated on Carter.

"How about the service road?" Carter asked in-your-face style. "See anybody use that?"

"Nope. That's on the other side of the property Ain't nobody can see it from here."

"_Ya think_?"

Luka grabbed his belongings from the hood of the patrol car as he and Carter bolted for the Jag. "Get back up there," Luka yelled at AJ and his colleague. "We'll meet you there."

"Got a problem up there docs?" one of the cops asked. "Need help?"

"Yeah, don't let anybody into the property," Carter said as he got back in the car, this time in the driver's seat. "If you could, have a car swing around Baxter to the service road. It's marked with a small white sign that says 1014 - private service road. Don't let anyone drive in there either."

"What's the problem Doc?" the sergeant asked.

"Just a security issue with my staff. Harassment," he made up. "Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, hey, sorry. Ya know?"

Carter peeled out and raced up the entrance to the estate in record speed, jerking the car to a sudden halt and very nearly forgetting to put it in gear before getting out. Running up the stairs and bursting into the foyer, they were both taken by the absolute stillness and, with the exception of their nervous breathing, dead silence.

"_Emily_?" Carter called out walking straight towards the back of the house and the kitchen.

"_Amanda_?" Luka stepped into each room of the vast downstairs. "_Amanda_? There's no one here," he said as Carter met back up in the foyer.

"I know," Carter replied almost under his breath. "And the back door was wide open."

The two stood at the base of the grand staircase, neither saying a thing as they composed themselves and prepared for the inevitable. What was real or fabricated, what passed for legitimate or criminally convoluted remained at the forefront of their reasoning. And their reasoning had long since waned by then.

"What do we…?" Luka sat down on the steps, exhausted, and pushed the hair back away from his face in one motion with his hand. It was bad enough after all this time that he still hadn't been able to come to terms with what had happened to Colleen, but Amanda? "She's just a kid," he thought out loud. Sympathy plopped in the form of a wet muzzle with hot breath on Luka's knee. "Where did this dog come from?" A very wet and muddy golden retriever snuggled up to Luka's side looking either for warmth or sympathy herself.

"Hey Bridget." Carter knelt down and took the dog's head in his hands. "Where did you come from?"

Those doggy eyebrows did a dance of confusion as her ears perked up at the familiar voice.

"You have a dog?" Luka asked.

"Ah, no. Yes, but…" Carter stumbled over the explanation. "She was my grandparents'. I guess Emily kind of inherited her. She's an old girl."

"I beg your pardon, young John Carter?" Emily walked hurriedly into the foyer, leash in hand most obviously not connected to the dog.

"No, Emily, the dog is old. Where have you been?"

"Outside. All that ruckus out there spooked Bridget. She got away from me before I could get the leash on her." Patting the dog's side, Emily shooed her back into the kitchen. "Ah, look at you. I'm afraid she went swamping in the pond. Tell me that's not your blood you're sporting on your clothes, Dr. John."

"No, a patient's."

"You've been out of the house for a while?" Luka asked.

"Afraid so. She led me on quite a goose chase."

"Amanda's not with you?" Carter finally asked noticing that the girl hadn't followed Emily into the foyer.

"She was right here," Emily explained showing a touch of alarm. "I told her to stay put."

Carter shook his head as if to indicate that that certainly wasn't the case. "We looked all over, called her."

"It's a big house. Did you look upstairs?"

"She should have heard us," Carter said doubtfully yet scaled the steps two at a time just in case.

He opened each door and called out her name to no avail, finally reaching his sister's old room that Amanda had been using. The stark white interior only served to pop the pink comforters adorning the two twin beds.

"Amanda?"

Instinctively, Carter got down on the floor between the beds and flipped up the comforter of the first bed. His sister never failed to hide under those beds when need be. She never changed it up, always the same hiding place. But Amanda wasn't there. Having to nearly lay on the floor to get low enough, Carter lifted up the comforter on the bed to his left and looked under there as well. There on the other side, also laying down, looking right at him was Amanda. It was a fraction of a second, less than a blink of an eye that made Carter flinch. That snapshot stored deep in his memory bank of Lucy lying helplessly on the other side of the gurney in Curtain-3 jogged his body, making his heart skip a beat as he wavered forward slightly on his arms that had propped him up.

"You win," she said with a giggle. "_Ewww_. You're all dirty."

"Did you find her?" Luka walked in the room with Emily. He had been in every room but Amanda's and was more than relieved when her red mop of hair popped up between the wall and the farther bed.

Carter was sitting on the floor against the bed, taking a few deep breaths of his own. "Why were you hiding, Amanda?"

"Playing hide and seek. Emily's not too good at it."

"I was outside chasing the dog, young lady," the older woman explained. "I'll have you know I have an excellent hide and seek record."

"We have to get out of here," Luka quietly reminded Carter, sitting on the bed to face him. "She can't stay here any more." The two security guards came in the house and called up the staircase. "_We're up here_," Luka answered.

"What am I supposed to do?" Carter contemplated. "Wherever I take her they'll find her through me."

Luka remained still while in thought, ignoring the conversations with the guards going on behind him. There really was no choice but to talk to Sam, and he quickly dialed her number on his cell phone.

"Sam, hi. Listen to me very carefully. Everything is in my SUV for the trip, right? We're leaving tonight. _Now_. You and Alex need to meet me at the hospital. I'll be there in about a half hour or so. I know, just trust me, please."

"You sure about this?" Carter asked, knowing full well what Luka had just done. Luka nodded.

"Amanda, we've had a change in plans," Carter started. "You get to go on vacation with Luka."

"But I like it here with you and Emily."

"Sam is going too," Luka explained. "And her son, Alex. You'll have someone to play with."

"I don't like boys."

"Amanda," Carter sat on the bed and took her two hands, looking her in the eyes. "I'm going to be honest with you, because I know that you're old enough and smart enough to handle it. Okay? We have to move you just like when you meet up with your father."

"My dad is coming?"

"No." That one hurt, but Carter paused only long enough to give her hands a reassuring squeeze. "Not yet. But there are people who are looking for you because they don't like your dad. So we have to stay one step ahead of them. Do you understand?"

"I'll pack your bag," Emily gently announced as she took the small suitcase out of the closet and started filling it with clothes from the dresser bureau.

"My dad told me about those men. They're the bad spies."

"That's right," Luka spoke up. "But we'll look just like a regular family, and I know you'll have fun."

"What about our dinner tomorrow night?" She looked right at Carter, digging into his center of guilt somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. "You promised."

"I did. I know. And I'll keep that promise, we just can't do it tomorrow."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, out of habit, Carter went to grab his keys from the console. "Must have left them in the Jag."

"The three of us won't fit in there," Luka surmised. "You have a bigger car?"

"Just the limo and that would stick out. We need something less obvious."

Emily came back out from the kitchen where she had gone to check on the stove. "Your dinner is almost ready, boys," she said looking at the two very large and suddenly interested security guards. "It's a shame we can't all sit down to eat together."

"Emily, they're not here to discuss recipes over dinner," Carter shot out somewhat annoyed. "However, if you… wait a minute. How about we take your car?"

"You want to drive _my _car?" she laughed. "Fine with me, I guess."

"Somebody has to drive a decoy." Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Amanda. "You know, to throw off a tail."

"You are a wise one," Luka gave her with a smile and a pat to the head.

"I don't want the security guards to leave the property. They'd know she was gone," Carter mentioned. With that, all eyes focused on the cook, wiping her hands on her apron. "Emily, how would you like to drive the limo?"

"Oh, Dr. John, I don't think your grandmother would approve."

"I think she'd do it herself if she were still with us." Carter ran into the library and rummaged in the desk, finally finding the limo keys and handing them to Emily. "Here, just drive out the front and make your way into the city. Take your time, stay in populated areas and _don't _get out until you get back here. Give us at least an hour or so. Your keys in your car?" She nodded as she took off her apron and headed towards the garage door in the kitchen. "Okay. Good. And you two," Carter added pointing to the guards eager to get their hands on the roast sitting on top of the stove. "Move your cars out front next to the Jag. Turn all the lights on in the house and walk around. Make like there's actually life in here."

"What about dinner?" one of them asked.

"Whatever," Carter answered. "You can eat while you walk around. Hell, make it look like one big dinner party."

"Oh, Dr. John," Emily interrupted as she put on her sweater, "that wouldn't be proper to let guests walk around with dinner plates."

"**Go**, Emily."

"I wonder if the limo would fit in a drive-thru?" Emily pontificated as she disappeared into the garage.

Carter took Amanda's hand and, with Luka, headed out the back door.

"Wait," Amanda yelled as she broke away from Carter and ran back into the house, "I forgot the vest."

Just the act of sprinting away from the grown-ups raised the fear level for Luka and Carter as they both chased her back into the house only to meet her halfway as she returned clutching the tan vest. She had her prized vest and pink backpack with her secret things and proudly walked past the men towards Emily's car.

"She do that often?" Luka asked.

"Hope not."

As Amanda helped herself to the backseat of the car, Carter and Luka stood looking down at it.

Luka scratched his head as he sat in the front passenger seat, his knees easily connecting with the glove box. "What kind of car is this?" His longs arms searched for something to adjust the seat with, finally able to breath easily as it pushed back.

"Ford Escort," Carter replied as he too adjusted his seat position. "Gotta pay Emily more money."

The car lurched over the ruts in the seldom used service road that snaked through the wooded area of the rear of the Carter property. Past the pond, the vacant caretaker's house, then finally to the end where the awaiting Sheriff's deputy opened the gate.

The ride to County itself was uneventful and very quiet. Luka and Carter thought about Sean and, as an occupational hazard, started predicting where in the operation the surgeons were probably at. Still in the chest, Anspaugh would still have quite a bit to do in the belly, and orthopedics would be chomping at the bit to get in there at the end.

"I notice you didn't tell Sam about your plans," Carter told Luka quietly.

"Well, yeah. Some things are better said in person. Especially with Sam."

The trip back to the hospital felt like it took forever. Considering they weren't in the souped up Jag, and Luka wasn't driving with a vengeance, they _were _taking longer. But it seemed like an eternity. Luka turned around and checked behind them almost as often as Carter looked into his rear and side view mirrors. A few blocks before the hospital, they slowed behind the rubber-neckers gawking at the police presence still investigating the shooting at the hotel.

"_Hey_," Amanda almost shouted sitting up straight and pointing out the window, "that's Sean's hotel. It has a real pretty name. The Blink Bonnie. Can we stop?"

"No," Luka spoke up, "we don't have time."

"Please? I want to say good bye." Finally the car inched forward away from the hotel, Amanda keeping her eye on it and the red lights flashing. "I wonder what's wrong. How do you suppose Sean will get any sleep with all that going on?"

"Sean caught an earlier flight out." Lies were coming easy to Carter with regards to Amanda. It made him wonder how much his own parents lied to him. But after the incident at the house he worried that if he told her the truth she'd bolt out of the car. A convenient lie.

"I didn't get to thank him," she said.

Luka turned around and stared at her. He couldn't help it. The lights from the streets rhythmically poked in through the windows and bounced off her shiny red hair. She looked so much like her mother. "Thank him for what?"

"This." She reach inside her shirt and took out a fine gold necklace, holding the pendant out for Luka. "He got it for me at a little store called the spawn shop I think."

"_Pawn _shop," Luka corrected her.

"Yeah. Lots of cool stuff and jewelry," she said as Luka reached back and took the small charm in his hand stroking the two hands holding the crown and heart. "It means love, friendship and loyalty or something like that."

"That was very nice of him. Very special."

"Yep. He said we're friends now _forever_." Her smile was broad as she hid her new necklace back inside her shirt again. "Bloody best blokes," she announced in her best imitation of Sean. Her giggle was contagious and innocent. Luka couldn't help return the smile even though he knew the truth.

Carter pulled into the ambulance bay and parked next to Luka's SUV. Suitcases and gear were in the back, the carrier secured on top, but Sam and Alex were not there.

"Hey Jerry," Luka called towards the Admit desk as the three of them raced into the ER, "where's Sam?"

"Lounge. I heard about your friend, Sean…"

"Yeah," Carter said cutting him off nodding towards Amanda, "he caught an earlier flight."

"Jerry, I need you to do me a favor." Luka glanced at Malik standing nearby as well. "You too, Malik. Go outside and stand by my SUV. Make like you own it, okay?"

The two shrugged at each other before stepping outside. "Yeah, okay." Any chance to get outside, and the roach coach complete with donuts was still open.

"Luka?" Sam met him at the door to Trauma-2 where he and Carter had gone to change out of their shirts into clean scrub tops. "Oh my God, what happened to you two?"

"I can't explain now." He tried to be calm. "Can you take Amanda into the lounge?"

"Why do we have to leave right now?"

"The bad spies are on our tails," Amanda matter-of-factly pointed out as she interrupted Luka and Sam, "so I get to go on vacation with you. But I have to warn you, I don't much care for boys. They're so childish."

Sam looked incredulously at Luka wanting so badly to be able to say something. Her eyes, his half scowl each communicated much without saying a word.

"Here comes Elizabeth," Carter announced as Dr. Corday came down the stairs into the ER. "Guess they're ahead of the game." But as she passed the elevator and Anspaugh got out joining her in the walk towards Carter and Luka, it suddenly felt like a huge lump had developed in his gut

"Take Amanda to the lounge," Luka repeated, as Corday and Anspaugh got closer.

"What's going on?"

"Just _do it_," he said firmly as he connected with Sam's eyes. "And don't let anyone talk to her."

Guiding Amanda towards the lounge, Sam looked back over her shoulder at Luka who stood with his arms folded in front of him nervously rubbing his sore face.

The surgeons motioned Luka and Carter back into the empty trauma room.

"I understand that the patient was a good friend of yours," Elizabeth softly spoke. The tone of her voice was all they needed. They'd seen it before - done it before, all too many times. "The injuries were just too extensive. He had the best chance - we were in his chest within twenty minutes of the shooting, but there was nothing we could do. I'm so sorry."

"There wasn't an organ untouched. His bowels were a mess," Anspaugh added, "his body just gave out."

"When?" Carter asked.

"About twenty minutes ago." Anspaugh was so good at being formally unaffected. Decades in the military tends to do that. "Told Kerry to call us when you two got back."

"Will you be okay?" Elizabeth reached out and gently touched Carter's arm as he unconsciously put his hand over his mouth.

He nodded, then cleared his throat. "Is he still upstairs?"

"Yes," she replied, "they're just finishing closing him up."

"I want to see him… before he goes downstairs."

"I understand. I'll let them know."

Kerry Weaver watched from outside as the surgeons gave Carter and Luka the news. "Frank, page Dr. DeRaad and get him in here. If he doesn't answer his page in ten minutes I want you to call him at home." As Anspaugh and Corday exited the trauma room, they traded nods of understanding with Kerry who remained in the hall to give the two men time to be alone.

They stood together, but apart, each in their own thoughts - each with their own doubts and guilt, deep sadness and self pity. Parlayed together, these emotions trickled out in ways that defined who Luka and Carter were: the deep thinking, self blaming once husband and father, and the son of opportunity and wealth for whom money never bought happiness and who never quite felt worthy enough to achieve such happiness on his own. Both had succumbed to their destiny, yet neither wished death to come for someone like Sean who had given selflessly for others he never knew, and who always provided a friendly ally regardless of fault.

Carter finally sat down on a chair and buried his head in his hands, not weeping, not yet, but rather exhausting his disorganized emotions. His back to Carter, Luka kept shaking his head as if to discount the death notice Elizabeth had just given them. The stool on casters provided a measure of relief for him as he shoved it violently across the room with his foot letting it crash into the stainless steel trash can in the corner.

"Toomay…" Luka finally mentioned.

"I'll call her, and Sean's sister. You have to get out of here."

Nearly colliding with Kerry in the hall, the two made their way to the lounge where Sam was keeping Alex and Amanda confined.

"… and that's a pancreatic tumor. Ten inches. Cool, huh?" Alex pointed to a large photograph in a medical journal.

"That's a spleen, dummy," Amanda admonished him with a roll of her eyes. "And it's in centimeters."

"Come on," Luka said as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa, "we have to go now." He was emotionless, the color drained from his face.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?" Sam almost begged.

"I'll take the kids out to the car," Carter offered.

"This trip was supposed to be about _us_, the three of us, getting away from here - being alone."

Luka followed Carter, his hand on Sam's arm, not wanting to waste time. "Look, Sam, either Amanda comes with us or I stay here and help Carter take care of her."

"It's not fair."

"No," he conceded, "it's not. But her life is in danger."

"And it's okay to attach that danger to us?"

"I don't think they'd be looking for us, Carter's going to keep up appearances here for a while. Please, I owe this to Bob. Sam," he stopped short of the SUV, out of hearing range, and reluctantly whispered in her ear, "Sean was killed tonight. He was my friend and I couldn't save him." His voice cracked as he let down that wall just enough for Sam to reach around his waist and hold him in her smaller arms, her head buried in his chest. He could feel her nod her head and that's all he needed.

"Amanda?" Sam asked.

"She doesn't know. I can't… not now."

"You have everything?" Carter asked Amanda as she jumped into the back with Alex.

"Yep. Suitcase, backpack and vest." She had put the vest on. It was much too big for her, but that suited her. "I'm on a mission just like my mom and dad."

"Yes you are." Carter pasted on a meaningless smile and startled when the girl threw her arms around his neck giving him a big hug. "Whoa, I'll see you soon, I'm sure."

"I know. But you're going to be lonely in that big house all alone. Emily is nice and all," she said as though speaking from years of experience, "but she's just not your type, and she's, ya know, old."

"Let's go," Sam ordered as she jumped in the front seat. "I'm the keeper of the secret destination and I will spoil no one."

"Give Toomay my love," Luka told Carter as they stood next to the driver's door. "I'm sorry you have to…"

"It's okay. You get going. Take good care of her." They both looked in at the girl. "I know it's going to be hard, she's so much like Colleen…"

"But she's _not _Colleen." Luka dipped his head and took in a deep breath before reaching out and sharing a brief hug with Carter. "Take care."

"Be safe," he returned as Luka got in the SUV and pulled out leaving Carter alone in the dark, quiet ambulance bay. Once back inside, he grabbed a pair of scrub pants from a rack in the hallway before going back into the lounge. Still empty. He'd left his locker wide open earlier, nothing had been touched. He leaned against the wall of lockers resting his head against the cold metal before slowly undoing his pants.

"Hey, Kerry thought you might need some ice," Abby announced as she made herself welcome, ice bag in hand. "Looks like you got a bruise starting on your temple."

"No thanks." He took his soiled pants off not caring what she saw.

"You want me to leave?"

"You've seen it before."

"Okay, uh… hey, you want to talk about…"

"No, Abby. I guess I want to be alone."

"John." A new voice, Carl DeRaad, entered from the other door. "I heard that you suffered a loss. A friend?"

"Abby and a shrink. I smell Kerry Weaver all over this. Did you bring a specimen cup Carl? How about you, Abby?" he whined as he tied the drawstring and put on some sneakers he kept in his locker. "Grieving really isn't a team sport. Maybe it is in the psych department, but definitely not in my family."

"I think I'll leave you two," Abby spoke quietly, "call me if you want, okay John?"

"We couldn't communicate when we were sleeping together," Carter lashed out knowing full well the door hadn't yet closed behind her, "and suddenly she thinks that Sean dying will change all that?"

"You want to tell me what happened tonight?" DeRaad asked, purposely ignoring Carter's selfish snit. "You look like you've been pushed around."

No, he didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to explain things. "I'm going to have to talk about it when I call the camp in Uganda and tell Toomay whose husband was Sean's best friend. I was there the first time when we had to tell her that Joseph's brains were blown out in front of us and landed on Luka." DeRaad let him go and listened. "And I'll have to talk about it again when I call the _Alliance _and tell them that their regional director who grew up in war torn Ireland and spent most of his adult life dodging civil wars in Africa was murdered in his hotel room in downtown Chicago. And there will be more talking when I call his sister in Ireland. So you'll have to forgive me if talking to you about it is not a priority." Slamming his door shut, Carter walked over to the sofa and parked himself, not sure what he wanted to do first.

"You treated him?" Carl asked sitting in a chair beside him.

Carter nodded.

"You did every thing you could?"

"Everything but listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

"We - the staff - talked to each other, talked to him, but we didn't _listen _to him. He tried to talk, but we were so hell bent on getting him upstairs that I didn't care enough to listen. I intubated him - shut him up." Leaning forward, Carter picked up the small book of Irish phrases Sean had given him and held it in his hands, then got up from the sofa and restlessly paced the lounge.

"What would you have talked about?"

"I don't know."

"What did you want to say to him?"

Carter simply shook his head and stopped at the lockers long enough to slam them with the palm of his hand a couple times.

"_I didn't get to,_" he said as he punched, finally folding his hand into a trembling fist.

"Didn't get to what, John?"

Sliding down the lockers onto the floor, Carter pulled his knees up into his chest and buried his face as he finally allowed himself to cry. He cried for Joseph, and Todd. And now for Sean. He cried for the first time since he came back from the first trip after he had been tortured. Really cried.

"What didn't you get to do?" Carl asked as he squatted down next to Carter.

"I didn't get to say goodbye."

"It's not too late."

_(A very few song lyrics from 'Sigma', a haunting Irish songthat Sean had been listening to after Todd's death in PC2, previously properly attributed, have been deleted 5/03/05 as per site administrator's new regulation. The complete original text of this fic can be read at LUKAFIC)_

The OR was empty save for Sean's body covered on the table in the center of the room. Carter walked in and hesitated before taking the sheet down from Sean's face. It was white - he was so white. The ET tube was still in place per regulations. The pathologist would remove it, but Carter couldn't leave him like that. Finding a syringe, he deflated the cuff and pulled the tube out that he put there himself. The tube that had silenced Sean. It seemed so cold and sterile, quiet and benign. So unlike Sean. His spirit was gone. Carter had seen many dead bodies in his career. He's had a patient's heart in his hand when life ceased, but never before had he realized the passing of the spirit until now as he took in the contrast of the flat, lifeless body before him that had once belonged to a man who embodied a spirit of goodness and friendship - a spirit he shared freely with no prerequisites and no expectations of anything in return.

"You've had your ticket for a long time, my friend. No holes in your pocket."

Laying his hand on Sean's surgical draped chest, Carter reluctantly closed his eyes and said what he needed to in his thoughts, for himself and for Luka, and for everyone back at the camp who would feel his absence just as much as they would, even more.

Pulling the little phrase book from his pocket, Carter opened it to a page he had previously chosen. "_Go n-éirí on bóthar leat." _Hestumbled over the pronunciation, but maintained his composure as Sean would have liked. "_Slán agus beannacht leat_." He paused, then added the translation for his own benefit. "May the road rise with you. Goodbye and blessings on you." The book went back in his pocket and he covered Sean's face one last time.

"Best blokes."


	11. Chapter 11 He Who Loses Faith

**POCKET CHANGE: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Eleven**

Emily pulled into the estate just head of Carter, the long limo jerking a little as she struggled to get the length of it up and around the last curve. The Escort jerked to, for other reasons.

"Help me with the groceries, Dr. John?" she asked as she popped the trunk and walked to the rear to start unloading the plastic bags.

"Thought I told you not to get out until you got back here?" he scolded with very little vigor.

"Oh, _pish,"_ she dismissed him as they made their way into the kitchen. "It was a treat to get myself there and back in class, even if I had to be my own chauffeur."

"Yeah, we should do something about that. I didn't realize you were driving such an old and a … well…"

"You mean a car with character?"

Carter gave her a tired half smile as they started unloading the groceries onto the counter.

"Are you okay, John?" She never called him just 'John' unless she was pissed off at him or truly concerned.

"I need you to do one more thing for me," he said, ignoring her question. "I'm concerned for your safety and have arranged for you to spend some time at the family's town house in London."

"What? Oh no, I'm fine here."

"Emily, I am paying you to go. The house has security, there's plenty to do in London. No one's been in it for months." She still didn't look convinced. "I'm sure it could use some cleaning."

"Now?"

"No." Carter looked at his watch. "Flight leaves at 9:10 tomorrow morning. American flight 90. AJ is going to take you to the airport hotel tonight."

"What will _you _do?"

"Work. Sleep. Don't worry, I'll take good care of Bridget." The look of despair on her face failed to disappear. "Emily, I survived weeks of torture in a Congolese rebel camp. I think I can take care of myself on," pulling the groceries out of a bag, he looked at a few of the items, "caviar, lobster and strip steaks."

"Yes, I'm sure you can. But the question is, will you burn the house down in the process?" She could tell when something wasn't right with him. Emily had seen him through his brother's illness and death, been the shoulder he cried on when he came home from months of teasing at boarding school to find his parents on an extended trip to Hong Kong and the far east. He used to talk to her over ice cream about girlfriends when he was in high school, and over a beer in college. He may have drifted further away from her apron strings as he got older, but somehow just enough of the sensitive lonely little boy remained that she could see into his eyes and know when he was hurting inside. "Why are you so sad, John?"

"Um… a friend died today."

"Oh, dear," she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big hug. "You can cry about those things, you know. It's good for the soul."

"Already have."

"I can't leave."

"Yes you can, and yes you will."

"Bridget…?"

"…will keep me company."

"I'm afraid she needs a bath."

"So do I. We'll bond."

Emily may have been closer to Carter than any family member outside of his grandparents, but she understood her position well and that meant doing what she was told to do. "Give me an hour to tidy up the kitchen and pack," she said pulling herself away from his loving embrace, not embarrassed by her tear escaping. "Did you call your friend back?"

"No. The number is on my cell phone and that seems to have been stolen. I guess I'll just have to wait for a call here at the house." He hoped against hope that the call would come that night. He needed it.

"Still, you should talk to a friend. I know how you are, John. Don't wallow here in this big box of a house all by yourself." Putting her apron on, Emily smiled tenderly as she got back to work. "You had better clean up after yourself. I don't want to come home to a bachelor pad."

Once Emily had left with the security guard, Carter settled into his grandfather's chair in the library. He hadn't sat there since he was a child pretending to be someone of importance. It wasn't painful, just daunting. Official. It wasn't comforting either, just cold and business-like. He looked at the phone number on the piece of paper in front of him. Lots of digits, plenty of time to back out. He felt like he was calling to close a business deal, except the finality was something less than a fiduciary coo.

_011-256-04.…_

His hand was shaking as Carter hung up the phone. He'd had to do this lots of times at the hospital. Never pleasant, many times ingrained into his soul, but he never felt… never felt… lost, without faith in himself. He had saved patients with less equipment and medicine in unsanitary conditions in the jungles of African, but with the best that money and opportunity could buy in Chicago, he had lost Sean.

_011-256-0471-3.…_

He paused before finally dialing the last four digits, then waited as the overseas connection was made. "Toomay? Hi, John Carter. Yeah, he's actually gone on vacation. Uh-huh, he got here with Bob's daughter. I… Listen, um… Toomay, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Something's happened to Sean ..."

God, he hated this.

_**

* * *

He who loses money, loses much; He who loses a friend, loses more; He who loses faith, loses all.** -Irish blessing  
**

* * *

**_

Luka finally let Sam take the wheel at around 3am. As the SUV climbed yet another steep mountain, she glanced in the mirror to check on Alex and Amanda, both sound asleep on pillows against their respective doors. The swelling on Luka's lip had finally started to diminish, though he still subconsciously pampered it with his tongue occasionally in his restless sleep. They had driven through the night, stopping only once to gas up. All the others knew was that they were headed north-east. Dawn had been sufficiently present for at least an hour as Sam rounded the last tight curve of Route 3 before reaching the turn off. The earth had a sandy red tone to it that continued on to the scarred mountain passes blasted out years ago to make way for the roads, leaving a pattern of stripes layered diagonally over the natural red and brown striations covering the 'walls' of the highway.

Reaching up to open the cover to the sun roof, Sam's elbow inadvertently connected with Luka's head.

"Ooh, sorry," she said as Luka sat up straight, stretching the kinks from his neck.

"Where are we?"

The dewy mountain air crept in through the sun roof ahead of the rays of immature morning sunshine that would soon enough pierce their eyes.

"The mountains," she answered as she took in the glory of nature, and that which gave her tiny moments of happiness when she was a child.

"Smells nice."

"Ah, clean mountain air with a hint of acid rain," she joked - almost.

"Enlighten me. Which mountains?"

"Adirondacks."

"Adirondacks?" Luka asked taking greater liberty to look around at his surroundings. "We're in New England?"

"No, not quite. Northern New York State." Sam reached back and tapped Alex's foot which had snaked it's way onto the center console. "Hey, wake up sleepy head. We're almost there."

Alex rubbed his eyes and squinted through the haze of bright morning light as he sat up and checked out where he was. "Is this Oswegatchie?"

"Oswe - who?" came Amanda's voice as she joined Alex.

"Oswegatchie," Sam corrected her. "Yes, Alex, that's where we are."

"Cool!"

"How about filling me in," Luka asked smiling at Alex's excitement.

"We're going to my grandparent's house. When I was a kid, when my grandparents were still alive of course, my parents would send me up here when they were heading towards another cycle of mean fighting and excessive beer drinking."

"Beer?"

"Yep. A right of passage in my family was being old enough to get dad a beer off the porch." She slowed down as she neared Fletcher's Motel and took a left onto the rural road.

"Hey mom," Alex asked as he poked his head in between Sam and Luka, "are we going to see Uncle George?"

"Yep. He's going to come open up the house for us. You remember him?"

"No. Just his name."

Browns Falls road was paved, but not kept up, the edges brittle and crumbling into the red earthened shoulders. Tight corners and sudden dips made this part of the trip hard on the gut. Houses were few and far between, some no more than skeletons of abandonment. Sometimes the only indication that a family once lived in a clearing was the leftover fireplace chimney standing among the ruins of a foundation fighting to blend in with the encroaching greenery.

"Why are there kitchen things on the porches?" Amanda asked taking in the countryside. Some houses had an old refrigerator or washing machine propped on their dilapidated porches. Others left them in the yard next to their junked cars.

"There's a joke that goes, the more appliances on your front porch, the wealthier you are," Sam told her. "Add an old sofa and you're swimming in champagne."

"Employment scarce up here?" Luka asked.

"What employment? When my grandparents lived here - when they were young - there was the paper mill, two actually. The communities supported all the employees. The jobs have all long since gone. The tourists flock to places like Lake Placid or Saranac Lake. Most of the people that live here are fifth or sixth generations." Sam slowed down as she got to a small ranch style house set back from the road, then laid on her horn a few times. "Hey George," she yelled at the older, tall, slender man who came from the barn, "see you at the house."

The kids giggled as Sam drove over the metal "rumble bridge". The last hill was steep and curved to the left, and what appeared when they reached the crest was like something out of a storybook.

Springtime had cupped its hands around this small corner of the earth and delivered an array of magical colors worthy of an artist's pallet. A bright green meadow behind a layered rock wall sat to their left surrounded by magnificent tall trees of every variety imaginable, the burgeoning soft leaves struggling to gain strength after the hard winter. The grand-daddy spruces and pines stood tall among the newer deciduous trees, their own color proudly displayed year round on their sharp needles. Deep purple, lavender and white crocuses - the earliest of wild spring flowers, dotted the landscape like haphazard droplets of paint. And hiding behind decades of overgrowth and harsh changing weather, an old shed leaned mercifully into its slow decay, almost begging to become one with the soil.

Atop the moss, fern and rock covered hill to their right humbly sat a white clapboard house, the large stone chimney supporting it like a backbone, and quaint screened-in side porch defining its simplicity. As they turned the corner and completed their trip up the driveway, the grandeur of the small house was evident. The driveway turned back into itself around a large raised circular garden, obviously unused in recent years. Sam parked the car and got out quickly, not even stopping to close the door.

"What's the hurry?" Luka asked, getting out himself and joining Sam at the side of the house.

"Daffodils."

"What?"

"These." Sam bent down and lightly brushed her hand over the row of open yellow blooms. "They're all crowded. I think I'll split them tomorrow."

"Daffodils?"

"Yeah. They were my grandmother's favorite. All she talked about from Christmas to Easter." Sam squinted up through the sunshine at Luka who, with hands on hips, marveled at Sam's sudden domesticity as she raked the dead mold laden leaves from around the flowers. "You don't have daffodils in Croatia?"

"Not sure I'd notice if there were," he jested as he sat on the ground next to her. Stroking her face with his hand he finally leaned in and attempted to give her a warm kiss. "Ouch."

"Can you keep that junk to a minimum?" Alex interrupted. "There are kids present."

A pick-up truck barreled up the driveway and parked behind the SUV. "Hey Samantha," the tall man said as he got out of the truck and walked over to give Sam a hug. "Looky here," he marveled as he glanced at Amanda and Alex. "Seems you've been busy."

"Ah no. Alex, you remember your Uncle George. And this is my friend Luka."

George shook Alex's hand, then Luka's, pausing to give him a good once over. "And who's this pretty red head?" he asked, pointing at Amanda who had scooted behind Luka.

"Amanda is a friend of ours," Luka quickly answered. "She's joining us while her parents are away on business."

"You ain't from here, are you?" George asked Luka, amused with his accent.

"No. I'm from Chicago."

"You're funny."

"What?"

George snickered again before giving Luka a friendly whack on the back on his way to the house. "Come on. I opened up the house yesterday and aired it out. Barbara stocked the fridge for you and put clean sheets on the beds."

"Can Amanda and I do some exploring out here?" Alex asked.

"As long as you keep the house in your sight," Sam gave him sternly, knowing how much Alex liked to test boundaries and not sure of Amanda's own ability to mind adults.

A faint odor of heating oil greeted them as they opened the squeaky screen door and followed George inside. The small entry into the kitchen was just as she had remembered it. Hooks to the side still held the jackets left behind after her grandparents had passed, their boots neatly lined up beneath. The kitchen was very small, with a table for two at the end between the old stove and wall with sink and cupboards. Only one chair capped the end of the table, a small radiator topped with a seat cushion at the other end.

"That was my grandpa's seat. Every morning he warmed himself there, a cup of strong black coffee and a piece of burned toast." Sam smiled as she put her hand on the table. "Funny how the place looks smaller."

The dining room was next leading into the living room. It was simple. A round table with four chairs, a built-in corner china cabinet to the left, and on the right a 'high boy' bureau against the wall that separated the living area from the bedrooms. The same old sofa with cotton doilies donned the living room. Two old chairs, one a rocker, framed the huge stone fireplace. A six pane window was built into the oversized chimney halfway up drawing in the sunlight. To the left a door led to the screened-in porch, and on the right was a tiny white room that held a small kneeling rail and miniature alter of sorts with candles and a crucifix. Turning to leave and check out the rest of the house, Sam was drawn to the bookcase filled with history and adventure. There were two bookcases in the house, this one with the 'grown-up books' she never looked at as a child.

Back through the dining room, they turned the corner by the 'high boy' into a small hallway that held just one bathroom, two bedrooms and a linen closet. Luka had to adjust to the smallness of the house and duck through the doorways.

"Sam," Luka whispered so George couldn't hear them as he stocked firewood in the living room, "the bedrooms both just have twin beds."

"Don't worry," she said with a smile, "we'll manage. They did." A narrow bookcase going from floor to ceiling sat just inside the doorway to her grandparents' bedroom. As Sam reached up and pulled an old book out, the smell of the aged paper wafted out. "My grandmother was a school teacher in the 1930's. They were actually my great grandparents. I never knew my grandparents. These are the books she used in her classroom."

Luka took out one of the old spellers and flipped through the fragile pages. "Good memories?"

"When I came here I used to pretend that we lived in the old days. I'd take these books and play school…" Lost in thought, she put the primer back and leaned into Luka, who gave her a warm hug. "Luka, you know we have to talk."

"I know."

"Hey mom," Alex yelled, running into the house, "there's a cool boulder in the side of the hill behind the garage."

"Yes, there is." She looked forward to watching Alex discover the many things that she herself had loved there as a child.

"Well, I gotta go," George announced. "Now, that camp is still standing up on Skate Creek Road. Nothing special, but the kids might get a kick out of it. The dang beavers keep damming up the pond but I can't convince the rangers to let me kill 'em. It's okay to let the only road we got get flooded or the camp get ruined, but the asinine Adirondack State Park controls us and our land. Can't take a piss in the woods without getting written permission these days." He walked through the kitchen and reached behind the door, pulling out an old rifle. "Luka, you any good with a gun?"

Sam could feel Luka's grip around her shoulder tighten as he cocked his head and closed his eyes while he took in a deep breath. "I suppose."

"How about you go target shootin' at the camp."

"It's loaded?"

"_Hell yeah_. Sometimes them bears get mighty friendly. Your grandpa, Sam, would have shot them if they got within ten yards of the house, but your grandma - she just waited for them to get close enough to the door so that she could see them through the window - nose to nose once, then she'd flick the porch light on and off to scare them away."

"My dad gave my mom a gun. That's what she told me," Amanda proudly announced. "She called it Dirty Harry. Have you ever shot anything, Luka?"  
_  
**

* * *

Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal.** -Bishop Robert South 1634-1716, British Clergyman  
**

* * *

**_For the better part of the day, Carter wandered the house with Bridget close behind, her toes clicking over the hard floors. He showed up at work bright and early only to have Kerry shoo him home. So back home he went where he dwelled and worried, until he had to leave again in the evening to escort Sean's body from the funeral home to the airport. He didn't have to, but he wanted to, and he had promised Sean's sister that he would.

Parking the Jag next to the terminal, he was allowed to ride in the hearse onto the tarmac after being cleared by security. He had seen too many caskets in the last few years, and in Africa simple boxes were crafted, but only in the best of situations. Carter made sure Sean would arrive home in a casket worthy of his presence. Probably spent more money than Sean would have liked, but it made Carter feel better.

The funeral home director pulled the casket out of the back of the hearse and onto a hydraulic lift at the rear of the jetliner. Before it raised up, Carter asked for the lid to be opened one last time. Inside he placed the only thing he brought back from Africa that would have had any meaning to Sean. It was a Polaroid that Colleen had taken of the family table at the Midway. A smiling Sean was playing with Mbuto on his lap, Toomay was placing plates of food in front of Todd and Maggie, while Luka and Carter mugged for the camera. Even Bob and Othiamba were there that day opening a couple bottles of beer.

He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Sean's face. He wanted to remember him as he was in that picture, which he tucked under the crease of the satin covering. A nod to the funeral director and the lid was again locked back down. Papers were signed, customs forms taped to the casket, and Sean was loaded as cargo for the overseas flight to Limerick Airport where his family would be meeting him.

He sat in his car at the airport and listened to the radio. His cell phone was gone, nobody was at the house, they didn't want him at work, and he wondered about Luka. Had they arrived at wherever Sam had secreted them? Had he told Amanda about Sean? Did Sean's trauma replay in his head like it did Carter's? Did he question and doubt what they had done in the trauma room? And finally, did he miss the camp as much as Carter did?

He slouched down and rested his sore head back against the seat. Everything ached. He felt like… like a big nothing. He just didn't feel fulfilled like he did at the PCRC, and now he was alone - nothing new for him. But he dwelled on it still. Of all the folks who were close to Sean, he was the only one dealing with his loss alone, yet those who knew him probably wouldn't think twice about it. When Carter wants to be alone - you leave him alone. That was his own doing. _Bridget's the only one I feel like listening to at this point_, he thought as he started up the car.

Carter couldn't bring himself to go back to the house. He drove around aimlessly for two hours before finding himself parked in front of Abby's apartment building. No particular reason, just an old habit. Although they parted on angry and hurt terms when he left for the Congo, time and circumstances had mellowed them when he came back by way of ambulance, and she had arranged for his parents to be there for him. But their discussions had been little more than teacher/student since then. In fact, as he sat there he realized the only person he had spent time talking with was Luka since they had come back from Uganda, and _that _night.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he wondered aloud. "She's the last person I need right now."

He got out of the car along with a six pack of _Killian's Red_, and leaned against the hood of the car where he proceeded to stare at her window and begin the journey of honoring Sean, one beer at a time.


	12. Chapter 12 Half a World Away

**POCKET CHANGE 3: Hide and Seek  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twelve**

A lone figure under the street light cast a shadow across the hood of the small white car, making Abby leery at first to cross the street in the dark. "I assume you're not here to share that with me," she said as she stepped up on the curb in front of Carter.

He finished his second beer and carefully placed the empty brown bottle next to the other one on top of the roof of the sports car. "Nope. Wouldn't think of jeopardizing your sobriety."

"What about yours?"

"Mine is contingent on the availability and want mostly for a needle and syringe, preferably filled with a narcotic, which I am not currently craving," Carter spit back. "And despite what the doubters around here think, with the exception of prescribed antidepressants that are working _oh so well_, I haven't taken so much as an aspirin since I puked up that Vicodin three years ago." He took another swig before adding for his own benefit under his breath, "nothing voluntarily at least." He didn't count that entire mess in Pakwach after the tree incident, although it was a bit of a wagon fall."

Abby cringed her brow and sighed trying not to look him in the eye. "Beer's not part of the program."

"Neither is Tequila, but that hasn't stopped you in the past."

"That was a while ago, Carter. _Come on_, I got the snot kicked out of me by an abuser."

"You ought to see the guy that kicked the snot out of _me_. Better yet, it's too bad you couldn't have met him. I think you both had childhood attachment issues."

"Did you come here to point out my inadequacies?"

"Haven't even started yet."

Abby stifled a disgusted chuckle and rolled her eyes as she walked away from Carter towards her front stoop. "I'm not - I am _not _going there."

"You never could." His words hit hard, just like he meant them to. Twisting the cap from his third beer, he successfully tossed it into the metal trash can attached to the light post.

_Clink._

"Is this how you grieve? Huh?" she asked whipping around and stepping back into his face.

"I don't know. You tell me. Oh, wait," he declared, his arms outstretched as though making a grand announcement, "never mind. You wouldn't know, because when I needed you most when my grandmother died, my grief took a backseat to your brother's temper tantrum." He didn't even taste the beer anymore as he opened his throat and poured a good third of the bottle down.

"When are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself? And why bring up my past?"

Carter threw her a smug smirk as he put the bottle to his lips again. "It's all about poor Abby, isn't it?"

"I don't know what this is all about. _You _came _here_, remember?" Finally she saw the look of defeat in Carter's face as he nodded in agreement and let her have the final word. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you learned how to be a mean drunk from Luka."

"I'm not drunk."

"Close enough," she gave back as she took the empty bottles and threw them in the trash can. "How about we get rid of the others as well."

"How about you mind your own business." Tossing the third empty bottle into the trash can, _crash_, Carter fished around his pocket for his car keys.

"Do **_not _**get behind the wheel of that car," Abby ordered putting her hand on his arm.

He liked the feel of her touching him - certainly didn't object - and did nothing to prevent her from gently pulling him away from the car.

"Come on, it's beginning to rain," she said with the caring Abby voice he missed - the one that sucked him in years ago. "Leave the beer. It'll keep."

Carter couldn't help stare at her eyelashes as the repelled mist eventually beaded up into a drop large enough for gravity and a blink to force it to her cheek below. As the mist evolved into a steady rain, Abby tugged on his arm and nodded a note of encouragement his way.

* * *

"The bed squeaks," Luka complained as springs under the mattress gave way entirely too much. "It's lumpy." He didn't even need to point out excessive squeaking it made as he moved even the slightest.

"Maybe that was their secret to a long marriage." The mountain air had been refreshing, but Sam had to close the window as the night time temperatures plummeted.

"Can't we push the beds together?" Luka asked motioning helplessly with his hands.

"Luka! The kids… you know, this was my grandparent's house…"

Luka sidled over to Sam's side of the bedroom and playfully kissed her neck before letting his fingers inch up her back inside her shirt. He really only intended to wrap his arms around her, to smell her hair, to be held himself, but…

"Ah, Luka…"

"Mm hmm…"

"No, I mean… ah..."

"Shhh…," he giggled, "this is not about talking…"

Sam cleared her throat to get his attention as she pushed his hands from her. "Hi sweetheart," she said, directing her attention to the doorway, "what can we do for you?"

"Can't sleep," Amanda announced. "I miss my mom and dad... and my grandma."

Sam walked over and put her arm around Amanda's shoulder trying to comfort her. "I know you do, and I know it's hard to be with us in such a strange place." Looking at Luka, fishing for him to help her out, Sam was dismayed by his seeming lack of interest as he backed away.

"Did my mom ever talk about me?" Amanda asked Luka, her eyes unapologetically and innocently focused on his own dark eyes.

"Sure," he almost nervously answered. "She showed me a picture of you that she kept in a book." Luka pushed himself away from the wall he had leaned against and walked towards the doorway. "I'll, ah, leave you two alone. Get a glass of water."

"Is he mad at me?"

"_No_, no Amanda. Luka doesn't talk much about Africa."

"My dad says it's the most beautiful place on earth."

"I've seen pictures. I'm sure he's right." Sam sat on the bed and gave it a pat inviting Amanda to join her. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"After my mom died. He said that he was going to talk to his bosses about changing jobs and then write a book," the little girl said as she absent mindedly played with her necklace. "And then he said he would let my Grandma retire and we would build a great big house of our own someplace and live together forever."

Sam could tell that Amanda believed what she had been told and hung on to that dream. "That sounds like a good plan."

"Does he know where we are so he can find us? Because we can usually only stay at a safe house for two or three days before we have to move on."

Sam struggled with how she should talk about Amanda's father. "I'm sure if he needed to find us he could."

"He's the best damn RDO in the agency," she exclaimed, obviously repeating what he had said.

Sam was both amused and amazed at the girl's worldly flair.

"That's a Regional Directorate of Operations," Amanda explained without even asking if Sam knew what it was.

"What's that you have there?" Sam asked, pointing to the necklace.

"My friend Sean gave it to me."

"Oh, it's a claddagh."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's Irish."

"How do you know?"

"Because a little part of me is Irish. At least my ancestors came over from Ireland and settled right here in Oswegatchie because it looked so much like their homeland." And that's about all Sam knew about her ancestry. She had heard that same story of the immigration from Ireland a hundred times.

"My Grandpa Reilly is from Ireland. I never knew him. What's Ireland like?"

"I don't know. I've never been there. I only know the story of them coming here about a hundred and fifty years ago," Sam explained. "But I do know the story of the claddagh. Wanna hear it?"

Amanda nodded.

"You see in the sixteen hundreds a man named Richard Joyce from Ireland was kidnapped by pirates while traveling on the high seas and then forced to learn the trade of a goldsmith." Sam added a little flair to the story as though she were reading from a great book. "Many years later when he returned to Ireland, Richard found the woman that he had loved when he was younger. She had waited all those years for him, never forgetting her love for him and had been faithful to him. Richard made a ring for her that looked just like this and named it after the town of Claddagh in County Galway." Sam held the charm in her fingers. "Each of these things means something. See, the two hands represent their friendship, the crown represents their forever loyalty, and of course the heart symbolizes their undying love. So the claddagh means love, friendship and loyalty."

"I'm too young to be in love with Sean," she said with a giddy laugh. "But I can be his forever friend, just like he said. And loyal, of course."

Sam caught sight of Luka standing in the doorway. The size of the house contributed to a lot of unintentional eves dropping over the years. "That was real nice of him to give that to you," she said as she gave Luka an annoyed look. "How about you try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll find something fun to do."

"I don't quite know what to do with that Alex," Amanda explained, her face harboring a typical feminine seriousness. "He's just a boy and he doesn't want to talk about important stuff."

"I know what you mean." Sam gave the girl a hug while keeping her eyes trained on Luka. "Give him a chance. He may just surprise you."

"Okay. I'll try," she sighed with heaviness. "Goodnight."

"Sleep well," Sam called out.

Amanda paused at the doorway and waved a crooked finger at Luka to bend over. Giving him a hug around the neck and then a soft kiss on the cheek, Amanda wished him a goodnight before padding down the short hallway to the room she shared with Alex, an antique dressing partition between the beds.

"I didn't know you had Irish blood." Luka said as he came back in the room.

"There's a lot we don't know about each other, I guess."

Luka shrugged his shoulders and avoided the gist of Sam's fishing expedition.

"Why do you do that?" Sam asked Luka as she turned down the covers of her bed.

"Do what?"

"Distance yourself from her?"

"I wanted a drink of water."

"Oh _please_." Sam paused until she had closed the bedroom door. "Every time she starts a conversation with you, you conveniently find something else to do."

"I'm not avoiding her -"

"- That's _exactly _what you're doing."

"She's a girl. You have more in common with her -"

"-She's _a_ _child_, Luka. And you know her father," Sam said with her voice raised in a whisper, "and slept with her mother."

"Is that what this is about? What I did with Colleen?"

Sam smacked her head with the palm of her hand with frustration. "_God, Luka_. I am talking about a little girl who desperately wants to get to know you. She's not dumb and certainly not immature. She knows who you were to her mother before she died."

Luka dipped his head in defeat, his hands on his hips. "That's where it gets complicated," he said under his breath. "I'm going to try and get some sleep."

Sam sat on her own bed several feet from Luka. "I'm sorry about Sean. And I didn't mean to start a fight." Luka didn't answer her, just reached over and turned the switch on the antique glass hurricane lamp darkening the room. "Luka, what happened to Sean?"

He didn't answer right away, turning on his side away from Sam. "Multiple GSW," he explained clinically out of habit, "in his hotel room."

"He was robbed?"

"No. We think it was the people looking for Amanda."

"Luka, are we safe?"

"As far as I know. Yes. Don't worry. Nobody knows where we are."

_(Brief song lyrics previously attributed deleted as per site administrators. For complete story go to LUKAFIC)_

_

* * *

_

"I don't need sobering up," Carter snipped as he came out of the bathroom zipping up his pants. Abby put the pot of coffee on the kitchen table with two mugs. "Why is it that addicts can't have a beer, but they're encouraged to pump stimulants into their system as an alternative?"

"Maybe it's a form of denial, or lesser of evils, I don't know." Abby put the sugar bowl back on the counter when Carter sat down on the sofa avoiding the kitchen altogether. "No coffee?"

"Kind of works against the need for sleep issue."

Abby parked herself next to Carter, letting him direct the conversation, if there was going to be one.

"I don't know why I'm here," he sighed as he let his head fall onto the back of the sofa. "I've gotta get back to Bridget."

"Oh," Abby managed, not sure she wanted to be the third wheel to a relationship she didn't even know existed. "Um… she's expecting you?"

"Unfortunately. She's really sweet, but she just doesn't leave me alone. She was _all over me _this morning." He had stared at that ceiling before and realized the cracks hadn't moved. "I suppose the security guards at the house can deal with her."

"Ah… you have security now?"

"Long story, the short ending being that Dumb and Dumber get paid huge money to take care of Bridget's needs while I wallow in self pity."

"Excuse me?" Abby raised her eyebrows, her brain bordering on speechless.

"Giving her a bath is not my strong suit. She loves playing around but I can't stand being in there with her."

"Okay, I'm not sure I should be hearing this."

"I just can't get past the _smell_." Carter rubbed his eyes and sat up, giving his attention back to Abby whose mouth remained open, her sense of uncomfortable confusion ill contained. "What?"

"I… Okay, I know we shared something at one time, but I don't know any women who let their ex-boyfriends share intimate details of their, um… current love life."

"_My _current…?" Carter flung his head onto the back of the sofa again and vigorously rubbed his eyes, all the while his gut shaking with silent laughter. "You never met Bridget?"

"John, this isn't funny," she complained. "I hope that when we were together you had enough decency to keep the private things, well, private."

Carter stamped his foot on the floor as the laughter finally couldn't be contained any more. "Bridget's…" He tried to hold in his roaring by crossing his arms over his middle, but failed miserably. "Bridget's… a dog. A real… dog."

Abby whacked him good on his side quite intent on teaching him a lesson. "That's uncalled for, don't you think?"

"Ahhh!" Carter yelped. The slap felt more like a blow as she made contact with the side which had lumbered to the ground the night before at the taser party. "No. And stop hitting me. She is a dog. D-O-G. You know, four legs, attracts fleas?"

Abby's hands flew to her mouth not sure if she should laugh out loud at Carter, at herself or at all. In the end it didn't matter as they both nearly fell on the floor with gut wrenching howls.

"Oh my God," Abby managed, "I 'bout peed my pants."

Carter's eyes were red from now dealing with a wide range of emotions in such a short period of time with little or no sleep. "You really thought…?" As he turned sideways on the sofa to face her, Abby reached up and gently wiped away the tear that had escaped from the uncontrollable laughter.

"Uh-huh. You're quite convincing." Her hand remained as she cupped his tired cheek, but only long enough for Carter to reach up and place his hand on top of hers before regaining his composure and gently placing both of their hands on his knee.

I hate to see you fall back," Abby finally said. "I know you're hurting, but there are other ways."

"I don't expect you to understand. I'm not sure if **_I _**do."

"Do you want to talk about what's been haunting you? 'Cause I know you, John Carter, and you're suppressing an awful lot of hurt."

"_Don't_…," he started, "… just don't be clinical. Please."

"Is this about us? We never really resolved -"

"- No." Maybe he did go there to unload but Carter felt locked up. Thoughts disorganized yet neatly arranged into piles of sadness, grief, anger and fear. "I can't."

Abby leaned forward and gave him a hug - held onto him softly as he let himself barely open up - not enough to talk - but just enough for his chest to tighten, his eyes well and, with a sigh, tears of frustration and confusion to silently streak down his face. Pulling back, Abby held his face with both hands, letting the tears trickle over her thumbs as she leaned in and placed her mouth on his.

It's not like he didn't want to reciprocate. It had been so long since Carter had been held like that, since he had been kissed, and Abby's - for a moment - gave him a 'coming home' feeling. So he did. He leaned into her, his hands acting as though they were on automatic pilot working on virtual memory first on her waist, then further north to her breasts which he deduced were not confined to a bra. They must have taken a breath some time, maybe discovered circular breathing, but their lips remained on each other's while their tongues explored the not so new places. The problem, Carter figured out, was that he wasn't even hard. Back when this was almost a daily or nightly activity with them, he wouldn't have gotten past the first kiss without raising the school colors. Now his mind wandered, and blood flow was obviously not interested in _that '_vital' organ.

"I can't," he nervously got out as he pulled away. "I'm sorry, it's not the same." Carter abruptly stood up to put distance between him and Abby. "Just like with Colleen," he murmured as he paced, "after Todd…"

"What? Who?"

"_I'm_ not the same. Abby, _we can't fix what isn't meant to be_."

"Why did you come here then?-"

" - I don't know, but I have to go -"

" - John please. You shouldn't drive. You shouldn't be alone." Grabbing his elbow when he got close enough, she pleaded with him. "You can sleep here - on the sofa."

"**No**." Roughly pulling his arm from her, Carter grabbed his coat he had put on the back of a kitchen chair. "No… it's no picnic being around me while I'm sleeping… or attempting to sleep."

"So, you going to go finish those beers?"

"Maybe."

"Your friend would say 'circling the river?"

"It's 'circling the Shannon', and it's really…" Carter waved his hand to stop the conversation and walked to the door, standing with the door held open hesitating to say anything further. "I'm sorry about this. I just can't talk to you about Sean and Joseph… Todd." Briskly charging out the door, Carter threw his arms in the air for effect. "What the hell, Colleen too."

He was quick to go down the steps, but Abby followed. "John, please don't drive all the way home."

"I'm not drunk Abby.

"_Yet_, you mean."

"If it will make you feel better, I'll sack out in the on-call room at the hospital."

Carter circled the hospital four times before a parking spot opened up on the street around the corner. The last thing he needed was to have the Jag towed by security or worse, an ambulance plow into it. The fact that a good Irish pub happened to be just a few steps away certainly didn't hurt - and those few numbing shots of his long lost friend, Johnny Walker, _would _hurt - sooner rather than later. But he didn't care. He eventually hoofed it to the ER and parked himself on the bench with his remaining three beers. Far enough from the doors and lights to be left alone, close enough that he could steal a few hours sleep inside before his shift started in the morning. Best of all, it was eerily quiet. _Calm before the storm_, he surmised as he looked at his watch. Not quite eleven o'clock. Bars were just getting warmed up. Stupid people not quite drunk enough to get in trouble.

"You're wet." Susan stood by him in the shadows, her lab coat pulled tight by her arms crossed in front of her to keep out the chill.

"It rained." Carter quickly replaced the empty Killians with a new one, chucking the cap in the distance, his body and being now numb.

"You sure you should be out here doing this?"

"You telling me I should drive home? 'Cause the cops out that way aren't too fond of me right now."

"Why don't I call Chuck and have him come take you home?"

"You are interrupting a perfectly good Irish Wake. Either join me or find some students to harass."

"Hmm. It's just not the same without you and your practical jokes. Besides I'm off in an hour. Don't want to start something I can't finish." Susan's small talk didn't do much for the atmosphere.

"Abby called you, didn't she."

"Yeah, she's worried."

"There's a first."

Susan found a dry spot on the bench and sat next to Carter. "She really cares. I think you know that."

"After tonight I just hope she doesn't think that I have intentions of…, you know…"

"Yeah, she told me about that too. I don't think you have to worry."

"You girls share everything, don't you."

"You ought to try it sometime."

"I can't even talk to Luka about it," he mumbled into his bottle.

"About what?"

"Nothing."

"Are you taking your meds, Carter?" The glassy eyes and sour look he gave her between swallows, gave her second thoughts about prying. "Seeing DeRaad? Meetings?" Still, he didn't answer her. "Look, it's not like I'm putting a gun to your head…"

Carter shot her a definite disgusted look. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

A beeping from Carter's watch broke the tension and prompted him to pull his two vials of meds from his pocket. "Just in time, Susan." He took one pill from each vial, then stopped and took just one more of the smaller ones. "See? One for depression. Gee what a miracle drug - **not**…"

"It takes time, a couple weeks, to build up a steady state in your blood stream, you know that."

"And for good measure, not just one, but two sleeping pills. Maybe if I take enough, Jules and Colleen can get it on in my shitty dreams. Now _that _would be something." His sarcasm was on a high.

"Who _are _these people…? Carter, please. You can't be drinking a six-pack and taking these meds."

"I still have one to go. And Dr. Shrink-O-Matic only gave me a five day supply, remember? I'd have to take a handful to do myself in. See, that's a perk of being both a doctor _and _an addict. I know just how far I can go before I bottom out with a GCS of 3." He finally pulled himself away from self absorption long enough to look at Susan's blank face. "Don't worry. I have no desire to self destruct."

"I'd say you're on the right path."

Taking Susan's hand in his, Carter finally backed down. "I just have to get through this my own way. And I will."

"You don't have to do it alone."

Carter was relaxed just enough to let the evil secrets make a suggestive appearance. "See, that's where you're wrong. Susan, what Luka and I saw… got involved in… were a part of… changed our lives. And even _if _we were at liberty to talk about it to anyone but each other, it wouldn't fix what happened."

"I thought this last trip to Uganda was a positive thing. You set up that camp, got lots of recognition, even a big magazine layout by someone famous."

"Yeah. Well," Carter cocked his head and stretched his neck muscles, "that _someone famous _just wasn't all that special. Caused more pain and death than…" His voice trailed off.

"John?"

Carter cleared his voice and took a deep breath as he refocused. "The people there… I wish you could meet them. Toomay and her kids, Mbuto, Othiamba, Sera - all the Congolese refugees and Ugandans that we worked with - they are _amazing_. You know when I first got to the Congo, the poverty and primitive living conditions in many of the areas shocked me. I was a deer in headlights. Then with all the different factions of rebels - the Mai-Mais, Rwandans leftover from their own failed coup, down to the government soldiers - I was crawling out of my skin. But the Congolese who were living this terror found time to laugh and play, to bring joy to others at their own expense. They fed us when food was scarce. They risked their lives for strangers because it was the right thing to do."

"See, it sounds like a great experience until, you know…"

"Yeah. It's amazing how the snakes that don't belong in that part of the world are the ones who show up and cause so many problems." Carter put his empty fifth bottle down and reached for the last one, not quick enough for Susan who whipped it away.

"Nope, that's enough. You are going to pull yourself together and walk a straight line through the ER to Exam-2. It's superbly quiet tonight."

He wasn't going to argue and tucked his shirt back in trying to make some semblance of his appearance as they walked into the ER.

"Frank, Dr. Carter is having car trouble and will be spending the night in our guest room."

"Uh-huh. Looks like his car's not the only one having trouble."

As Carter trudged on quickly towards the exam room, Susan veered off with great swiftness and got in the unit clerk's face. "Frank, you know that prostate exam our HMO is requiring of all male subscribers? Well let's just say that should you become rather liberal in your discussions with Dr. Weaver I can easily arrange for Morris to use you as a teaching case with the med students."

Carter made a pit stop in the bathroom and chuckled at Susan as he got to hear her rankle Frank's feathers. As he peed, he started to lose his balance and wavered, the effects of the alcohol and sleep aid kicking in. He put his arm out against the stall wall to steady himself, barely hitting his target. On his way out, he avoided the mirror altogether. The exam room was dark, blinds drawn and it was quiet, just as Susan had said.

"I brought you a couple blankets," Susan said, dropping them at the end of a bed.

"I'm on at eight, have someone get me around seven?"

"I will," Susan said with an outstretched hand, "now hand them over."

He knew exactly what she wanted and hesitated as he put his hand in his pocket and held the vials. "Come on, there are only a few left."

"Humor me."

Carter surrendered his meds and sat on the side of the bed, his back to Susan. "You know what I did tonight?" Her silence was answer enough. "I took my friend's body to the airport where they loaded him like cargo next to crates of candles. I said good-bye to him standing with a bunch of strangers wearing overalls and ear protectors."

Susan took a few steps forward and gently put her hand on his back, her voice gentle. "I'm so sorry, John."

He knew she couldn't see his face still standing in back of him. _Thank God_, he thought as he wiped the tears and let his head remain resting on his hand as though it would keep the emotions in. "I'm going to have to pay for this night with a month of two-a-day meetings, aren't I?" he said as though the lame attempt of humor would cancel out the sorrow.

"Try and get some sleep."

* * *

_Lyrics: Half a World Away  
Music by Rolf Lovland; lyrics by Brendan Graham  
Secret Garden, CD "Earth Songs"_


	13. Chapter 13 Burned Toast & Solitude

**POCKET CHANGE 3: Hide and Seek  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Thirteen**

Sam stirred as the bright sunlight pierced through the thin white cotton scalloped curtains adorning the bedroom windows. Stretching away the morning stiffness, she noticed that she was alone. A familiar smell drew her out towards the kitchen, the house so small it was just a matter of a few footsteps to get there.

Luka sat at the end of the kitchen table, his large frame a good foot or so larger than the previous tenant of the radiator seat. Sam leaned against the door frame in back of him and watched as he struggled to fit in the small space, his knees knocking against the table in front of him that hosted a tea cup filled to the brim with black coffee, a newspaper and one piece of burned toast.

"I didn't know you like your toast burned."

"Good morning," Luka said as he shook a wrinkle out of the newspaper in front of him. "I don't, but I think it's the only way that toaster makes it."

"Where did you get a newspaper?"

"In that pile over there," he said nodding towards a stack of old newspapers in the entryway.

Sam looked over his shoulder. "It's from _1991_."

"I didn't live here in '91. Look," he said pointing to an article, "a representative from Governor Chumo's office arranged for The Town of Fine to receive a grant to study the landfill." Pretending to be totally involved in the article, Luka leaned forward and read part of the piece. "It says here, _Geologists from the Department of Environmental Conservation working with a team of scientists from Cornell University have chosen the landfill as its centerpiece for a groundbreaking study on methodologies for soil and sediment fractionation using single and sequential extraction procedures_."

Sam stared blankly at Luka. "That's _Cuomo, _not Chumo."

"See, that's news to me. What's a landfill?" he asked.

"The dump - you know, where the garbage goes."

"Oh."

"Kids up yet?"

"Already outside."

Sam found a tea cup of her own and poured herself a cup of coffee. "They never had real mugs," Sam mumbled to herself. "Always tea cups." She liked Luka's coffee in the morning. Good and strong. "Been up long?"

"Mmm. I suppose. Couldn't sleep. Too damn quiet."

Sitting in the other chair opposite Luka, Sam noticed his cell phone in the middle of the table. "Need to call someone?"

"No, just habit to carry it around I guess."

"No cell service up here anyway."

Luka looked at the old black rotary phone on the wall. "What about the regular phone?"

"Party line."

"Party?"

"Three or four of the homes on this road share it, including George. Pick it up and you're more than likely going to hear somebody else's conversation. And don't answer it unless it rings one long, two short."

"Morse Code?" Luka asked eyebrows raised.

"Might as well be. And in case you were wondering, you can't make long distance calls."

Luka stood and stretched, his hands reaching the ceiling. "I am going to get dressed and go check on Alex."

"…and Amanda."

"Yes, Amanda too."

Sam watched Luka as he rounded the corner into the bathroom. Opening his cell phone she noticed that a number had been dialed before she got up. Pressing the right arrow key, the name belonging to that number was _Carter_.

They had to step up onto the steep ledge to reach the top of the boulder which had been secure in its location for hundreds of years or more, deposited when the glaciers etched out the landscape of New York State. Amanda and Alex parked themselves on top of the rock surface, the coldness of the morning settling through their jeans to their bottoms. They weren't up that high, but to them it felt like it. The morning air there always exuded a moist feeling which served to punctuate the smells of the soil, trees and decaying wood and leaves around them. There was no traffic to talk above and certainly no EL. The only consistent sound that drabbled in the background was the fast flowing creek that was out of sight over the hill to their left.

"How come you aren't with your mom and dad?" Alex asked quite pointedly.

"My mom died."

"What about your dad?"

"He works overseas."

"Doing what?"

"Can't tell you."

Alex laughed at her. "He doesn't have a job, does he?"

"Does too," she snotted back at him. "I know Luka isn't your dad 'cause you call him Luka. So what does your _real _dad do?"

"Can't tell you."

"Yeah, well my dad is a spy. He's worked all over the world."

"Yeah right," Alex laughed again, totally not believing her. "You are _such _a liar."

"Am not. He's coming to get me. He'll be here any day now, you'll see."

"Hey, look at that," Alex said pointing at the ground in front of them. A fat brown animal with short legs wobbled out from the woods and sat on its haunches gnawing at something. "I think it's a groundhog."

Amanda slid off the side of the boulder onto the ledge again, slowly making her way to the groundhog. Once she got within a few feet, it scrambled back into the bushes. "I'm going to leave him my apple," she said, putting her half eaten piece of fruit at the base of the tree. Back on the boulder, she and Alex waited for a second appearance. Within a few minutes, the furry creature re-emerged and set to work on the gift of food. "Cool! I'm going to call him Grover. Grover Groundhog."

"What trouble are you two getting into?" Luka came from behind the garage, startling the two kids who had been intent on watching Grover eat his breakfast.

"Shh," Alex shushed him pointing to the animal, "he's eating Amanda's apple."

"You fed him?" Luka's voice caught the attention of the groundhog who left his apple and went back into hiding.

"You scared him away," Amanda chided him.

"It's really not safe to feed wild animals," Luka tried to tell them unconvincingly. "You don't know him, he may not be well. He could turn on you."

"But he's cute," Amanda pleaded, her big beautiful eyes working on Luka.

* * *

_**Every deed and every relationship is surrounded by an atmosphere of silence. Friendship needs no words -- it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness.** -Dag Hammarskjold 1905-1961, Swedish Statesman, Secretary-general of U.N.**

* * *

** _

**  
**Carl DeRaad had already admitted three patients, discharged five, tended to morning outpatient appointments and butted heads over the budget with the hospital board by the time he strolled through the ER. John Carter was signed in but didn't have a patient assigned to him on the board.

"Dr. Carter?" he asked as he walked by a couple med students, both shrugging their shoulders and quickly finding something else to busy themselves with.

"Excuse me," he interrupted as Haleh and Connie talked over coffee in the lounge, "where can I find John Carter?"

The two women exchanged glances before Haleh spoke up. "You might be able to catch him in the suture room. He's been pretty busy."

"Thank you." The head of Psychiatry wandered down the hall to the suture room and opened it, finding Morris working on a knee lac. "I'm sorry, have you seen Dr. Carter?"

"Ah… on the phone, maybe… at the Admit desk. Or check radiology."

"Thank you."

Back out front to Admit and Carter was nowhere in sight. Frank stood between two stacks of charts, the phone ringing off and on.

"Excuse me, Dr. Car -"

"Don't know. Don't care," the gruff man said dismissively.

"He's signed in but isn't on the board."

"Do I _look _like his nanny?"

"I need to find him. If you could just have him paged."

Frank walked away mumbling, "…climbing up my ass for everyone to see…"

DeRaad continued on his journey peeking into every room with a door open, finally nearly running into Susan who stepped out of a darkened Exam-2 draping her stethoscope back around her neck.

"Susan, hey maybe you could help me. I'm looking for John Carter and getting the run-around from your staff."

"Oh, well yeah. They're loyal to a fault."

"And your unit clerk, Frank - does he have issues with me or my department?"

"It's not you. He's been threatened with a public viewing of his prostate." Susan felt DeRaad's frustration as she pointed at the door. "He's in here, sleeping it off."

"_It_? As in…?"

"As in he showed up drunk last night and we're trying to keep Kerry, who's in a meeting, from finding out. Which is where I should be right now. I just came down to check on him." Susan opened the door for the psychiatrist who took one look, then backed out to continue the conversation.

"Don't you think it's excessive?"

"He claims to have only consumed five beers, but I found his car around the corner parked up over the curb in front of Coughlin's Pub. I bet he stopped off for something a little stronger on his way here."

"So you've got him on monitors?"

"Pratt called me at two o'clock. Found Carter on the floor with dry heaves. Dehydrated, shitty BP, cardiac arrhythmia probably from electrolyte imbalance or just plain bingeing. He's really not a drinker. Probably hasn't eaten or slept much." Susan reached in her pocket and took out the two vials of meds she had confiscated from him the night before. "Not good when you combine it with these."

DeRaad took the vials and looked at his watch. "Okay, I'll wait for him to wake up."

"Give him these," Susan said, handing him the keys to the Jag. "It was a nice change from the EL. Tell him it's parked in his spot in the parking garage." Before she walked away, Susan lowered her voice even more. "One more thing. I know you're the expert here, but I don't think John is suicidal or anything. He's dealing with some issues and doing it all on his own - as usual."

DeRaad duly noted the "DND" - do not disturb - sign taped on the door written almost appropriately on the back of a code inventory sheet. Once inside he sat in a chair to the side and worked on some charts he had with him to bide the time. As the morning wore on, Carter slept soundly occasionally thrashing his legs against the side rails of the bed. He had an IV in his right arm, lead wires peeking out from the top of his hospital gown going to a monitor, and oxygen flowing through a nasal cannula. It was shortly after noon when he raised his hands to rub the crusty sleep from his eyes.

"What the…?" he questioned as the IV line flopped onto his face. He cleared his throat a couple times before looking over at the psychiatrist parked next to him, the added on to stack of charts now reaching at least a foot high. "What time is it?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"Twelve seventeen."

"PM?"

"Yes."

Carter pulled out the top of his gown looking at his chest, then up at the IV. "Shit," he complained, "isn't this overkill?"

"Is it?"

Carter ignored DeRaad's questioned answer while working on getting his body back to reality. "What are you doing here?"

"Needed a good excuse to get my charting done," he said as he closed the last file and added it to the pile, then gave his full attention to his patient. "You can really learn a lot about someone watching them sleep."

"You going to put me on a three day hold?"

"Do I need to?"

"Why do you always have to answer a question with a question?"

DeRaad shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe because you already know the answer."

"How's my patient?" Pratt asked, as he turned the light on.

"Oh, _Christ_," Carter whined as he rolled his eyes.

"That good, huh?"

"I've got a shift I should at least finish," Carter mumbled as he pulled the cannula from around his ears. "Help me out here."

"Not 'til I clear you."

"If I'm not mistaken, _I'm _the attending, _you're _the resident," Carter spit out as he sat up gradually, first resting on his elbows. "Who's the boss here?"

"I'd say inside these four walls, the guy whose new shirt you puked on last night and who was kind enough to hold Mr. Urinal for you. That's who."

Carter fell back onto the mattress and sighed the big sigh, both humiliated and exasperated. "Did you sell tickets to the event?"

"It was just me and Lydia. She tells me she took care of you when you got these last scars." Pratt nodded towards Carter's abdomen as he lifted the gown and palpated him. "Well, liver's not enlarged."

Carter pushed Pratt's hands out of the way. "_Shut up_."

"Quiet," Pratt ordered as he listened to Carter's chest with his stethoscope. "Sit up. Deep breaths," he continued, putting stethoscope to back as he checked out Carter's lungs. "Good, lie back down."

"_This _is ridiculous," Carter snarked.

"You know what's ridiculous?" Pratt sarcastically asked tossing Carter's chart on top of him, inviting him to read it, "finding you on the floor in your own vomit, semi-conscious, heaving, BP bottoming out and a cardiac arrhythmia that would give any cardiologist a gold medal hard-on. Now, open your mouth." Carter reluctantly did as he was told as Pratt looked at his mucosal membranes with a pen light and tongue depressor. "We started a chart but didn't enter you into the system. Lydia and I cleaned you up, put you to bed and worried about you while simultaneously played games with Weaver _and _Anspaugh who now assume that you're Super Doc this morning, so busy seeing patients that you're unreachable. Now read that chart and tell me what _you _would do if you saw that patient."

Carter flipped through the chart, reading what his body had silently told Pratt through the night. "I would do just what you did," he confessed. "The Pratt _I_ _know _would have given me Tylenol and sent me back to my park bench."

"What can I say? I'm feeling charitable. That, and I'm waiting on my evaluation from you." Pratt pulled the tape off the IV site and carefully took out the threaded catheter making Carter wince. "Hold that," he told him as he pressed down on the site with a gauze pad and finally taped it on. Taking down the front of Carter's gown, Pratt removed the leads, but left the adhesive circles behind. "You can rip those off yourself in the shower. Now, Lewis said you can finish your shift if you feel up to it, but no traumas. Take this," he said giving Carter a dosage cup with a small tablet in it. Carter looked up at him, puzzled. "Atenolol. Just take it. I'm going to give you a script, one BID for three days, then PRN if your heart goes aflutter. Still have symptoms after a week, find another doctor - _please_. Eat this," Pratt put a banana in front of him, "you need the potassium, and while you're showering - and believe me, you DO need a shower - I'll get you some soup and crackers. As for your clothes, they're in a bag in the nightstand, but I'd just burn 'em. Clean scrubs on the other bed. Any questions?" Finding no response from Carter, Pratt pointed at DeRaad on his way out the door. "Good. He's all yours. I got real patients to see."

"Pratt," Carter managed to snag him before the door closed "…Greg, thanks."

"No problem. But see, now ya owe me." Carter caught the signature Pratt-grin as the doctor finally gave patient and shrink some privacy.

Carter wasted no time whipping off the flimsy hospital gown and replacing it with the scrubs Pratt had left.

"So?" DeRaad asked during the clothing change.

"So…?"

"Why are we here doing this?"

"You have better things to do?" Carter asked while tying his shoes.

"How about you answer my question."

"I think you know the answer," Carter put back onto him, mirroring DeRaad's earlier comment. "I've got a warm shower waiting for me."

DeRaad put his hand on the door, preventing Carter from opening it. "You think Susan should have cleared you to work?"

"I think this is Susan's way of keeping an eye on me, and frankly, this is the most sleep I've had in over a week. I feel pretty good, albeit appropriately humiliated, ashamed and self conscious… in a good way," he answered with a hint of humor in his voice. "And this place is a far cry better than sharing a great big empty mansion with a dog."

"I think you have more friends here than you realize." The psychiatrist doubted Carter's analysis of himself, but had enough faith in him to let him go. "You know where -"

" - I know where to find you. Carl, thank you, but I don't think I'm ready to talk about some things. Not yet."

"Why not?"

Carter paused as the words started to form on his lips. He was thinking clearly, finally, and let it slip. It wasn't much, but for some reason just saying it lifted the weight off his shoulders just enough to make the rest of the day and maybe even future days tolerable. "Because people's lives are in danger," he said quietly as close to DeRaad's face as he felt comfortable getting.

"Just who would that be, John?" DeRaad stepped back a few inches to eek in some fresh air around Carter's stale post-vomit breath. "Do you see these people?"

"Look," Carter sighed as he winced away the predictable shrink response, "talking about people who have died - who have been killed - won't bring them back. It will only cause more problems for people close to me and possibly make an unstable country more volatile than it already is."

"You think people are out to get you, John? Is that what your dreams are about?"

"It's not paranoia when it's really happening. And no, it's not me they want."

"They?" DeRaad wondered about his stability. Carter was convincing, but sometimes the most delusional are also the most persuasive. "Have you been experiencing black outs? Suddenly unaware of your surroundings?"

"**No**." Carter rolled his eyes and cocked his head. "I knew that you… Listen, Carl…, Luka and I got tangled up in some really dark rebel activities. Do you believe me?"

"It's certainly real to you. I believe that."

"Oh, brother. Here we go," Carter mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling in disbelief. "What I've told you may _sound _delusional, but that's only because you don't know everything.

"I can get you as much help as you need, John."

Carter laughed out loud. "Not the right kind, Carl. Look, if it was all in my head, would Luka be sharing my paranoia?" Their eyes met as Carter nodded. "Trust me, okay?"

As Carter put on his doctor-face and blended in with the daily flow of life in the corridor, DeRaad stayed behind in Exam-2, close mouthed, and almost not even wanting to know what happened. Everything the Psychiatrist had learned and subsequently taught made him want to throw Carter into a Psych ward for a couple weeks. But something inside believed him.

By the end of his shift, Carter felt as though he'd done a whole big bunch of nothing, but that was alright with him. He was occupied, even if it was with chart review and inventory. And as he shot hoops outside in the ambulance bay, he made mental notes of just how stupid he had been the previous night.

"How's your shot?" DeRaad asked. Overcoat on, he was on his way home, briefcase in hand.

"It's been better… and worse."

"I bet. Here are your keys," he said, taking Carter's car keys out of his pocket. "I think Susan rather enjoyed babysitting the Jag. Check your spot in the parking garage. And I've seen her drive. Check for dings too."

"Okay," he laughed, just a little. He had seen Susan drive too.

"John, who do you talk to? I mean besides me."

Carter shrugged his shoulders and threw another ball. Nothing but net.

"And the last time you had a girlfriend?"

"I don't know. Year ago maybe." Stopping the ball under his foot, Carter rested his hands on his hips. "There have been a couple occasions where, ya know, I've… but it was all for the wrong reasons. And frankly, Old Johnson here can't seem to stand at attention lately."

"I don't think it's your meds - it's a low dose. You took them before and didn't experience prolonged impotence. Not saying it's not a possibility, just that I think that what's going on in your head has a whole lot more to do with it."

"Yeah. Maybe." He took a couple more shots hoping that DeRaad would take the hint and leave. When he didn't, Carter decided to finally ask a question. "What do you suppose brought all this on after five months?"

"Sense memories. We've talked about this. Putting yourself in an environment that triggers the repressed memories. For some people it's smells, others it's sounds or sights. For you, just the mention of a name brought it on. But you're dealing with it - getting it under control."

Carter nodded in agreement.

"Here." DeRaad gave Carter the two vials of meds Susan had confiscated from him the night before as well as a prescription. "Thirty days of your anti-depressant, but no more sleep aid. Let's see if you can do without after these last few are gone."

"I agree."

"Today is Friday. Come see me Monday so we can work out a schedule. Okay?" Carter nodded again. "Good. See you then."

Carter spied Artie and Bobby standing outside in the bay leaning up against the far wall. Bobby getting his smoke, Artie along for the ride.

"Shift over?" Kerry asked as she too took leave for the day.

"Just about."

"What did you do to your arm?" she asked, pointing at the adhesive and gauze still over the IV site.

"Ah, sort of self inflicted I guess."

"You'll be relieved to know that your drug tests came back negative."

"**_I_** should be relieved? I think you got that backwards."

"Listen, John," she countered as though not even hearing Carter's hint of absurdity, "I know you're going through some difficult times, so if you want to take some time to decompress I can arrange it for you."

"Decompress? Thanks," he gave her as he squared himself up to take another shot, "but I'm doing fine."

As Kerry walked off, Artie approached Carter, Bobby close behind.

"She scares me," Artie said with a shaky voice.

"Ha! She's hot!" Bobby lit another cigarette and leaned against the basketball pole all cool-like. "Wonder if she takes that crutch to bed. _Kinky_."

"That's enough," Carter reprimanded as he saw how uncomfortable Artie was.

"What, you telling me you don't think of that babe when you, ya know, spank the old monkey?"

Carter left the ball where it rolled by the wall and walked into the slacker's face. "Bobby, go home, your mommy's calling you."

Tossing his butt on the ground, Bobby walked back into the hospital one snit short of a tantrum.

"How did you do that?" Artie asked amazed with Carter.

"You just have to stand up for yourself, Artie. Don't let him push you around." He tossed the ball to Artie. "Come on, let's shoot some hoops."

"No. I'm no good."

"Neither am I. Come on," he prodded pointing to the basket. Artie's ball didn't make it to the rim, but close enough for Carter to give him a pat on the back. "You have to follow through with your hand," he told him showing him how to shoot. "Artie, I understand you know where Dr. Luka and Nurse Sam went on vacation."

"It's a secret. Can't tell anyone."

"Not even me?"

"Nope."

* * *

"Happy May Day," Sam announced as she exited the house with a large basket. "I made some sandwiches. Thought we'd check out the camp and have dinner up there."

"Walking?" asked Luka.

"Oh yeah," Sam answered as she started walking down the sloped driveway. Skate Creek Road forked in at the bottom of the drive just before the main road and somewhat paralleled it "It's only about a half mile up, and cars usually get stuck."

"Don't cars ever go by the house here?"

"If they do, they belong to cousins."

Amanda and Alex stopped at the bottom of the drive and squatted down, marveling at the ant hills that were nestled into the cracks of the decades old blacktopped surface.

"Eww," Alex whined. "Do you suppose they bite?"

"How about you stick your hand in there and see?" Amanda whispered to him so the grown-ups wouldn't hear.

"How about _you _do that," Alex countered, swiftly grabbing her wrist and shoving her hand into the small sand hill. But as she did nothing but coldly stare into his face, her hand crawling with ants, Alex let go and backed off.

"What's wrong, Luka?" Sam had to move her legs a bit faster to keep up with him as they made their way down the dirt road.

"The sounds," he answered looking intently at the ground as he continued on. "I don't like the… the sounds."

"What sounds?" Sam looked around trying to pick up what Luka was hearing. "I don't hear anything."

"The crackling in the woods. The trees… the…" Luka finally stopped and realized his head had been somewhere else. "Never mind. It's nothing. Let's go."

The camp consisted of a simply built cabin with a screened in porch facing the pond. Most of the area was shaded by the dense foliage letting the sunlight dapple in, spotting the earth like a patchwork quilt. The kids were quick to find the crudely built row boat and took it out for a go around in the still water while Luka and Sam sat on an old log watching them.

"He's okay, Luka."

"Who?" he asked, knowing full well.

"Carter."

"I know." Luka sat up straight, then stood slowly turning around to check the landscape.

"What?"

"Someone's here. Watching us."

"Come on. Your body just isn't used to being out here."

"Hey chickadee," a voice called out from the woods near the pond overflow. "Don't let them kids get near the old beaver dam here." Uncle George appeared from behind a row of tall pine trees. "I parked on Browns Falls and cut through. Last time I tried to get my wife's Chrysler up Skate Creek it got stuck and stayed there for three weeks until the road dried out." He made his way over to the log and propped his leg on the end, lighting a cigarette. "There's dynamite sealed in plastic in that old dam," he said secretively before taking another long, hard drag. "Now don't get all liberal animal loving on me. Them beavers vacated that dam last year, but now it's just keeping the water in the pond stagnating it. A couple good rains and it will flood the camp then collapse and flood the main road, Browns Falls, taking a shit load of years old dead timber with it. I figure as soon as you leave I'm going to clear out the woods and let her blow."

"The road wouldn't be impassable," Luka said. "We got here without getting to this end."

"Yeah, but you came the front way. It's faster for you. Think of this as a horseshoe and the main house is closer to the front end than the other. Those folks that live on the other half usually come in by the back way. But since rescue comes from Star Lake near the front end, if Browns Falls gets cut off, they'd have to go all the way down Route 3 to Edwards and wiggle their way in the back way. Take a whole lot longer. That's why you guys came the way you did. It's a lot shorter and you didn't have to cross the one lane bridge over the Oswegatchie river."

"Anybody ever come up here to the camp?" Sam asked as she and Luka followed George to the cabin.

"Nah. Not really. The wife and I will camp out here when it gets real hot in the summer. It's a lot cooler here with all the shade."

"You don't lock the door?" Luka asked as George walked straight in.

"Nope. Nobody's got any business being on posted land, and if someone finds themselves lost then I'd rather they walk in than break in. Nothing valuable up here anyway."

"Hey," Alex yelled running in the cabin, "look what I found."

"Well don't that beat all," George exclaimed. "Guess I left that out by the brush pile last fall."

"Put it down, Alex," Luka demanded.

"It's just an old dull machete," George tried to excuse.

"I've seen what old dull machetes can do. Now put it down."

George reached over and took the machete from Alex and surveyed the wear on it. "See, it's dull but had a lot of use over the years. These things are strong, don't chip away like picks and axes."

"Only when they hit bone," Luka added as he closed his eyes, his mind awash with frightening memories.

_**

* * *

The most dramatic conflicts are perhaps, those that take place not between men but between a man and himself -- where the arena of conflict is a solitary mind.** -Clark Moustakas, Humanistic Psychologist  
**

* * *

**_


	14. Chapter 14 To Trust the Wild

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Fourteen**

Morris dropped a stack of charts in front of Carter who was studying the board at Admit. "I need to run these by you for discharge."

"Already?"

"Losers, all of them," he moaned as he straightened his tie and flicked dust from his shoulder. "And if we had anybody decent working in psych, I'd get consults on all of them for hypochondria."

Carter flipped open the charts and glanced through three of them as Morris flippantly rambled on. "Ah, Morris,… where are the labs?"

"Waste of my Saturday time."

"Dr. Morris, what are the five most common complaints patients present with in an ER?"

"Huh?"

"Abdominal pains and cramps, chest pain, fever, headache, shortness of breath," Pratt rattled off as he put two of his own patient charts in front of Carter.

"Thanks," Carter gave him, "but I was hoping Morris would know."

"High hopes get you nowhere, Carter," Pratt announced as he took an apple from a bowl of fruit left by a grateful patient, then more than happily found something else to do away from the Morris debacle.

"I don't suppose you know that these same symptoms are those most at risk for misdiagnosis, the causes which would be…?"

Morris, eyebrows raised cockily waiting for Carter to finish the sentence, put his hands out fishing for the answer which he had no desire to hear anyway.

"… would be….?" Carter sighed and shook his head in disgust. "Myocardial infarction, acute abdominal problems, and meningitis. Oh my God… Morris you are a lawsuit waiting to happen. Failure to gather enough data and faulty interpretation of data will earn you that lawsuit, and from the looks of these nearly blank charts, I'd say you haven't spent more than two minutes with each patient."

"They presented, students did history and physicals. They're just benign complaints."

"Please tell me you got a chest x-ray for Childers and put him in isolation."

"Which one is that?" he asked, obviously inconvenienced by his superior's stonewalling.

"HIV positive, three week history of fever, cough with occasional bloody sputum and night sweats. How closely did you read the student's notes? Did you see '_patient reports he has a low CD4 T-cell count_'?"

"I gave him a script for Bactrim and steroids." Morris began to fidget, then grabbed the chart back to read what he hadn't previously. "He agrees it's probably pneumocystis pneumonia. Didn't want to deal with labs and x-rays."

"So now you're letting the patient make the diagnosis? You assume that just because he is HIV positive that it's automatically PCP?" Carter went back to the chart. "How about, '_patient states that he had been exposed to a friend with isoniazid resistant tuberculosis last month_'?"

"Neela should have told me."

"**No**, _you _should have read the med student's findings and acted on them. You're the teacher here. Put him in strict isolation, get that chest x-ray, labs including ABG and sputum AFB smear and culture, call Infectious Diseases, and get a mask on him. _Then _you present to me."

"Fine." Morris gabbed the chart and turned to leave.

"Not yet, doctor," Carter said, "start over with these other five. Get appropriate labs, consults when necessary, and never do this again."

Carter hung his head in disgust as Morris made his way back to his patients, still cocky, and seemingly put upon.

"He wants to be Chief Resident next year. Did you know that?" Pratt chuckled between the words, enjoying Morris' coming out party, so to speak. "I've tried to tell all you Attendings, I really have."

"Don't worry. We know. Unfortunately Weaver loves his ass kissing."

"I'm not touching that one." Pratt pushed his own charts in front of Carter, who read them through and signed off with no questions. "How you feeling? Any more atrial flutters?"

"No. I'm good."

"I didn't realize you were having problems," Pratt said appropriately hushed as he signed onto the computer. "DeRaad was down earlier and asked if you were having issues with paranoia. Just thought I'd let you know."

Carter moved in closer not wanting to share their conversation. "He's talking to you about me?"

"Let's just call it a consult. After all, I was your treating physician yesterday."

"And your answer was…?"

"Come on, you think I'd be working with you if you were walking around in a tin foil hat talking about little space men out to get you?"

Carter relaxed and went back to his stool. "Wire hangers redirect the gamma rays," Carter said quite dryly as he turned the page of the medical book he was reading, "not tin foil."

Pratt laughed for a split second, then raised his eyes from the computer screen, not sure where to go with that one.

"I'm kidding, Pratt. Jeez."

"I knew that." Pratt finished up what he was doing at the computer and walked the few steps back to Carter, leaning forward on his elbows. "Now that we've got the jokes out of the way and I've ascertained that you are healthy _and _lucid, how about you cover the second half of my shift."

"No. My twelve hours is done at seven."

"Just 'til midnight, and then you're not on again until Monday night." He grinned, he knew he'd get what he wanted.

"You've memorized the schedule?"

"I already tried everyone else… and besides, you owe me."

Carter looked at his watch, tapped the eraser end of his pencil a few times on the book, then caved. "Alright, but we're even now, right?"

"Absolutely, my man. You have just made one beautiful lady very happy."

"Glad I could help, I guess. Might as well get out of here now before a trauma comes in. What have you got waiting?"

He just so happened to have a new stack of charts waiting on the other side of the computer. "In two I have an altered LOL with SOB, history of Alzheimers. Cardiac enzymes and chest x-ray were negative. RT is nebulizing as we speak. Also, a screaming six year old vomiting what Dad thinks is blood - I sent a sample to the lab. Considering he's only eaten strawberry Jello for two days, my money is on that." Pratt continued to pile high the charts. "In three we have a rule out appy waiting on labs, chronic headache waiting on transport to CT, and twenty year old female with SVTs. I suggest a tox screen on that one, student still has to do the H & P. Lacerated labia is waiting in sutures…"

"I'm sorry," Carter interrupted, "did you say labia?"

"Yeah. Haven't gotten to the bottom of that one yet. She and her girlfriend aren't talking. Chuny is in with them now. Last but not least, a disimpaction safely away from the population in trauma-2. Have fun, nice to see you, adios and good night."

* * *

By Saturday, Sam and the kids had fallen into a routine at the house. Sam had split the daffodils and was now using the last bit of daylight clearing out the raised circle garden in the center of the driveway. The kids had found enough to do that the lack of television was either not important yet or had just gone unnoticed. They busied themselves with climbing trees, playing with the age old toys found in the attic, walking to the camp for a paddle around the pond, and keeping an eye on Grover.

What routine Luka was keeping was the question in Sam's mind. Not going to work for twelve hours at a time was foreign to him. He didn't wander far, choosing to stay indoors. He was restless at night and wandered the house at times. He had finally found something to do in the garage, picking around at the old wood working tools and reading the ships logs he found in the upstairs office. He sat at the old drafting table next to the window and looked down at Alex and Amanda on the boulder watching the groundhog hard at work with a piece of melon. In the midst of all the calm and tranquility of the mountains as the four of them experienced complete solitude from the outside world, he felt oddly uneasy.

"Hey." Sam came up the narrow staircase of the garage to check on Luka, her hands filthy from the moist earth of the garden. "Find something to do?"

"Ships logs going back a hundred years or so."

"Yeah. Never knew how he got them. Mostly cargo ships. We used to read through them as kids. Got boring up here after about a week."

"We?"

"My cousins. Uncle George's kids. They'd come up to keep me company sometimes." She wasn't sure Luka was hearing her as he stared out the window. "I'm glad Amanda is here. Nice for Alex to have someone his age to play with." Not only did he not answer her, he closed his eyes and sighed away the self imposed sleepiness that had embedded itself within him. "Luka?"

"Yep. Ah… was your grandfather an architect?" he asked as he smoothed his hand over the wide drafting table.

"Engineer, I think. Retired well before I was born. Designed bridges." Luka nodded, but remained silent - distant. "Okay, I'll get back to the garden."

"Sam? The bell - what's the story there?" He knew he had been something less than sociable since they got there and at least attempted conversation.

Sam turned around and looked up at the bell that was mounted above the garage. She'd forgotten about it. "If I remember correctly, that came from a church that burned down in the next town. Gramps put it up there."

"Must have been pretty noisy sometimes with kids around."

"We weren't allowed to touch it. Story goes that it was only ever rung one time and that was the day my Great Uncle Mike got back from the Korean war. They said they could hear it ring clear over in Star Lake." Luka nodded politely and returned his attention to the window, leaving Sam to feel totally alone - at least existentially. "Alright, I'm going to, ah, get back to…" He had stolen back into himself. She didn't need to finish, and saved her breath as she turned and went back to the garden not sure what kind of relationship they had anymore.

"How come it's always cold?" Alex whined as he pulled his hands from under his butt cheeks.

"Too much shade, I guess." Amanda drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as the two kids sat atop the boulder watching Grover eat the melon leftover from dinner. "It's just a big old rock, anyway." Looking up at the second floor window of the garage, Amanda caught sight of Luka. "He's watching us."

"Who?"

"Luka," she said directing Alex's attention to the window. "He always like that?"

"He's a lot of fun. We do a lot of cool stuff together. Just me and him… and Mom. Says we're a winning team of three."

She caught that little jab, but Amanda didn't let it get to her. "What else do you want to do?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders and continued ripping leaves apart at their veins to kill time. "My mom told me we were going to drive up to Whiteface Mountain to the North Pole place, but that was before you came with us."

"We can still go."

"No we can't. They said that we have to stay here and hide, or something like that." Alex didn't take any extra time getting to the final nail. "I wish your father would hurry up and get here."

"We don't have to hide. You're crazy. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I heard them talking this morning. They said because that Sean guy was killed that they have to keep you safe."

Amanda straightened her legs out when she heard about Sean. "My friend from Ireland? Sean Griffin?"

"Yeah. The guy Luka knew from the refugee camp."

Her heart raced, breathing became rapid, and head trembled just a little as she stiffened up, eventually turning her head and glaring directly into Luka's distant eyes behind the old wavy pane of glass. Slowly she slid off the face of the boulder, inching herself down until her toes reached the ground, all the while never taking her eyes off of Luka. She was sad, yes, but at that moment anger is what became her motor.

She started out walking at a regular pace around the garage, the tan vest flapping as her feet quickened. When Amanda saw Luka appear at the garage door, her stride picked up.

"Amanda?" Sam called out, the girl's face contorted with fury. "Hey…"

Amanda kept right on past Sam and continued on down the driveway, her fingers securing the claddagh pendant around her neck.

"What's going on?" Luka asked from the doorway.

Sam shrugged, puzzled at the situation. "Alex, what happened?" she asked the boy who finally appeared.

"I don't know. We were just talking about stuff."

"What stuff?"

"_I don't know_. Like, what we're going to do. Then when I said that we had to stay here because that Sean guy was killed, she wigged out."

"You said _what_?" Sam wanted to talk to Alex - maybe even throttle him, but with Luka standing still and not going after Amanda, she was left to pick up the pieces. "Luka?" She tried to get his attention as she ran down the driveway hoping to catch up with Amanda. Luka remained in the doorway of the garage, but Alex tagged along with his mother almost instinctively. "Where did she go?" Sam asked turning around when she heard Alex's footsteps. "To the camp?"

"Nah. I know where."

They walked across the deserted road to the meadow, over the Irish stone wall and a few feet in behind some berry bushes where they found Amanda sitting on the ground behind the dilapidated shed.

"Amanda? Hey, Alex didn't know that we had kept the news about Sean a secret. I didn't even know he heard us talking this morning." The little girl was unmoved by Sam's explanation. It didn't matter how she heard about Sean, just that he was dead and nobody cared to tell her. "Sweetheart, I know you're mad, but there is so much going on in your life right now that we wanted to wait for things to settle down before we told you."

"Is that why I had to come with you? Because Sean died?"

"Mm hmm." Sam put her hand on Amanda's knee.

"So Luka knew?"

"Yes."

"He didn't tell me."

"I told you, we wanted -"

"- I'm not a baby. My dad tells me everything."

"Luka tried real hard to save Sean. Dr. Carter too. But honey, you have to understand that Luka and Carter were very close friends with Sean and they're hurting inside right now."

"It's not fair."

Alex had been keeping to himself, but almost as though his mouth was being controlled by a puppet master, he just couldn't help… "How do you think Luka feels, huh?"

"_Alex_!"

"I don't care. This was supposed to be _our _vacation." His words were directed at Amanda, but he made sure his eyes burned into Sam before he turned and jumped over the wall and ran up the driveway.

By the time Amanda and Sam had gotten back to the house, Alex had sequestered himself in the bedroom and Luka was in his spot on the sofa reading a book.

"What are you reading?" Amanda asked demurely, standing at the far end of the sofa a safe and comfortable distance for her.

Luka flipped the book over and looked at the cover. "Early Twentieth Century Bridges."

"Do you miss Sean?"

"Is that what happened?" he asked her as though he didn't know. "You found out about Sean?"

She didn't answer but turned her head downwards.

Luka cast his own eyes down as he answered her question. "Yes, I _do _miss him."

"Did he have a lot of friends?"

Luka smiled as he thought about the parties back at the camp and Sean's inability to hold his liquor. "He sure did. Everyone liked Sean." Looking downwards, he felt a pang of sadness, then quietly added for himself, "everyone loved him."

"My mom too?"

"In her own way, I suppose." Luka swung his arm with the book up onto the back of the sofa. "When Sean first saw her he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Did you?"

Luka nodded. "You know, you are just as beautiful as she was."

Amanda sat down next to him, then inched over until she was nestled into him, her arm around his chest. "I'm sorry about what happened to Sean. He said you and Dr. Carter were the two best doctors he knew."

Leaving the book atop the back of the sofa, Luka wrapped his arm around Amanda's shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze. "What do you have planned for today?"

"We found Grover's front door. You know, the hole he lives in. We think he has a back door for emergencies."

"Is this the raccoon you're feeding?"

"Groundhog," she corrected him. "Did you know they can dig tunnels up to a mile long?"

"I still don't think you should be getting too friendly with a wild animal." Luka reached over and touched her fingers, finally taking ahold of her hand. "You just can't trust them no matter how cute they are."

"I won't touch him."

"Still, just wash your hands if you find that hole. They can carry parasites."

"What are those?"

"Bad little critters that attach themselves to wild animals and infect you without you knowing it."

"I'll be careful."

"I know, but you can never be too careful. Okay?"

_(A very few song lysrics from If I Could sung by Ray Charles previously properly attributed, have been deleted 5/03/05 as per site administrator's new regulation. The complete original text of this fic can be read at LUKAFIC)_

Carl DeRaad had heard about the Carter estate but had never been there. As he pulled up in front of the house he was immediately taken by the enormity of the property and the grandeur of the old mansion, the stiff peaks and proud chimneys jutting up from the immaculate landscape. Before he could turn off the engine, a very large man - large in every sense of the word from waist, to head to height - appeared looming over his modest sedan and opened the door.

"You have business with Dr. Carter?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is the doc expecting you?"

"I work with him at the hospital. And you are…?"

"Security. I'll need to see some identification."

Luckily he had left his briefcase in the car with his hospital ID. The hulking guard took the ID and looked back and forth between the picture and the man before him until he was convinced to take the next step.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"_What_? No."

"Okay," he said, looking over the doctor seeing no obvious weapons, "follow me."

The guard knocked a few times on the massive front door before opening it and letting himself in. Carter was on the phone leaning back against the console in the foyer in the midst of a conversation.

"… _it wasn't bad. Could have been Haldol." Carter put his hand over the phone and nodded at Carl, then the guard who went back outside. "Hi. Did we have a thing today?"_

"No. Just wanted to talk with you."

"Okay, let me finish up here and I'll be with you shortly."

Carl wandered the downstairs of the mansion feeling very small inside the widely spaced walls and insanely high ceilings. In one grand room and out the other side, he almost found himself lost until he eventually made his way back to the other end of the foyer.

"…_she is, but she went with Luka on his scheduled vacation. He's had kids, he knows how to take care of them…"_

Wandering into the kitchen he was met by Bridget who stretched herself awake and found her way off her cozy bed by the stove and over to Carl. Her cold, wet nose nudged his hand hoping to get some attention. She got a pet or two, then moved back into the foyer to be by her substitute master.

"…_no clue. Supposedly this kid, Artie Bishop, who works at the hospital knows where they went... Well, he has Down Syndrome. Great kid. Has a thing for the nurses." _

Carl had seen all the portraits and pictures, taken inventory of the antiques that he would never see anywhere but a museum and followed the dog back to Carter.

"_I'll talk to you later. Thanks for calling. It means a lot to me_."

"Found someone to talk to?" Carl asked after Carter had hung up.

"An old friend. Just recently found me again."

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

"John, what's keeping you from exploring the physical comforts of a woman?"

"You even make sex sound clinical."

"Not sex. Love." He watched as Carter raked his fingers through his hair, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. "Is the woman in that dream of yours still in your life?"

"Not possible."

"Then what's stopping you? We all crave affection and it can be very healing. What are you afraid of?"

"Hurting someone I love, I guess." Carter folded his arms across his chest and looked at Carl's face. "So what is it you see when I'm sleeping?"

"What?"

"You watched me sleep the other night. Said you can learn a lot about someone watching them sleep."

"Well, it was almost like you were running from something, someone. I know you've come a long way since your captivity but I honestly think that in some ways you are still being held hostage."

"That would be a good assumption."

They stood silently together, both waiting for the other to speak.

"So you have a security guard?"

"Ah, yeah. A team actually. We're having issues here at the estate." Carter motioned the dog towards the kitchen and followed her. "Let's go outside." Carter took them to the gardens where Bridget happily weaved in and out of the choreographed designs, jumping up every now and then to snap at a bug in the air.

"What kind of security issues?"

"Look, Carl, I know you pumped Pratt for information. I'm **not **being paranoid." Carter stopped at the reflecting pool and leaned against a statue. "One of the people who helped get us out of Africa the first time is a CIA agent - Bob."

"Bob who?"

"Just Bob. He showed up again at the camp in Uganda. Luka got involved with an American woman there, Colleen, who turned out to be Bob's ex-wife, but she was deeply involved with rebels in the Congo. Things got bad, real bad. Luka and I both got sucked into this vortex that led us back to the guy who had originally kidnapped us. She was working with him, exchanging drugs from our camp for photo ops. In the end, Colleen put a gun to my head, Luka saved me, Colleen ended up dead and Bob saved the day but at the expense of the mother of his child. Now his daughter's life is in danger and he sent her to us. She stayed here for a while until they found out, so we sneaked her out of here one night and sent her off on a vacation with Luka and Sam…"

"They?"

"The men looking for her. After Sean was shot, one even came to the hospital pretending to be a Detective Danielson. Frank called and checked. No such detective exists." Carter felt as though he shouldn't have said so much. "Don't look at me like that, Carl. I'm not making this up."

"You have to admit it sounds contrived."

"Maybe to you it does. But it would take me days to tell you everything."

Bridget stopped what she was doing and pointed her nose in the air, her ears perking up. Carter immediately let his attention drift from DeRaad to the prancing dog who seemed to alert to something unusual.

"What is it, Bridget? What's wrong?"

Carter turned in a circle surveying the property. "I don't like this. Someone's here," he murmured.

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it. Stay here, Carl."

"John…"

The dog bolted to the house and started barking in the direction of the driveway out of sight from the gardens. As Carter reached the house and nearly ran into one of the guards exiting the back door, a figure appeared carrying bags.

"It's good to be back home," she said, putting her suitcases near the door, her arms outstretched to the golden retriever who was overjoyed with her arrival.

"Emily, what are you doing here?" Carter asked relieved.

"Oh, I couldn't stand being in that place all by myself. It was foolish to go in the first place. My life is no more secure there than it is here."

"John?" DeRaad made himself welcome.

"Emily, this is Dr. DeRaad. Carl, this is Emily. She works for the family."

"I keep them ship shape, and can't do that all the way from London now, can I? You work with John?"

"Yes, I do. So you've been to London?" He had heard what she said, but was fishing for more details.

Carter tried to interject. "Emily, let's keep…"

"John was being overprotective. Thinks we're in danger. _Pish_. Now, if those steaks are still in the freezer, I'm going to make us a good dinner. Care to join us Doctor DeRaad?"

"No, no thank you. I'll let you get back to your routine. John…?" DeRaad walked around the house to his car, Carter tagging along. "What did you mean that you could feel it? You mean feel someone's presence?"

Carter shrugged. "I suppose it has to do with spending time in a shack in the middle of the jungle. We knew by the sound of the insects and animals what time of day it was. Carnivore predators do most of their hunting early in the day and then at dusk. Their prey would alert each other." They stopped at DeRaad's car, the guard holding open the door. "Middle of the day seems to be prime mating time for the colobus monkeys. I can't get any sleep when they're going at it. And the closer rebels get to the building the quieter the wildlife becomes."

DeRaad noted the far off look in Carter's eyes as he instinctively scanned the edge of the property, but he didn't want to force the issue. The fact that Carter was talking in present tense about what happened over a year ago stuck in his mind. "I hear that you worked a double shift yesterday."

"Shift and a half, more like it."

"Let me talk to Kerry and get you some time off."

Carter shook his head and closed his eyes letting a smirk escape. "You know one of the reasons people hesitate about seeing you shrinks is because you believe what you want to believe, not what we tell you."

* * *

"It was warm today." Sam creaked open the screen door and joined Luka on the porch. "It could have been 90 degrees and my grandmother would make sure I was wearing a sweater when I was out here. Had to put bug spray on the kids. Gramps would say, _this is the time of year that we have to learn to live with the black flies_."

"Like tse-tse flies," Luka said, jolting as Sam whacked one dead.

"Must have flown in here with me," she said, wiping her hand on her pants. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. Are the kids talking to each other yet?"

"Give them some time. Amanda's hurting and Alex is feeling a little jealous." Luka nodded, acknowledging her, but said nothing as he stared out of the screened porch into the darkening wilderness. "Luka, you should get out and go exploring. There's so much to see. Take the kids down to the river and go fishing, check out the foundation of the original homestead down the road. Lots of treasures there." Again, he remained silent. "At least try and get some sleep. You kept getting up again last night."

"Sorry."

Conversation with Luka was stunted at best since they had arrived and Sam was beginning to feel the effects. "Why did we bother to plan a vacation together if all you wanted to do was keep to yourself?"

"I didn't plan this, you did."

"Just talk to me. Is that so hard?"

Luka wanted to erase the bad things he had done, make it easier for Sam to trust him, to love him. But the place they were in was too close to the jungle. Far in miles, but close in feeling, in sound, in spirit.

"I'm going to bed," Sam spit out, slamming the aged door behind her.

Dusk was but a fleeting moment in the mountains, the daylight stripped quickly and replaced by the crisp dark air untouched by artificial city lights. The stars above were magnified, brighter some might say, as they stood on their own merit and seemed to beam down droplets of illumination through the branches and leaves of the trees, the flickering lights moving on the ground as the branches themselves swayed prodded by the continuously moving, sweet smelling air.

The green wicker rocking chair Luka was sitting in seemed to creek even louder on the old floorboards of the porch, the peeling gray paint crackling under the weight of the rockers. Through the old weathered screens, moving with the air at times like curtains, Luka focused on the scant clouds as they wisped over the moon, briefly hiding the bottom half as if to anchor it to the sky and protect it from unseen elements. His eyes closed, chair tipped back cradling his weary body, Luka felt as though he were back in Ikela sharing the porch with Carter, sharing their surroundings with the wildlife, insects and veiled eyes of the rebels somewhere out there, somehow watching them. He was in a deep sleep, yet a sudden brisk breeze fluttering the branches of the trees above startled him awake, his eyes flying open in sync with a gasp that came from the depths of his soul. He couldn't get out of there fast enough and left the chair rocking in the disquieting wind as he lumbered back into the house finally making his way to his bed, too tired to notice Sam already sound asleep on her side of the bedroom.

This night he slept, his body craving the slumber he had avoided for so many nights previous. But it wasn't without disruption. His mind was erratic, thousands of miles away at the camp clinic tending to Mani, his mother pleading for him to save her son. It was in the Midway watching Colleen dance with Carter, whispering in his ear while her eyes intentionally focused on her lover. He was at the bottom of a tree next to the soccer field hoping that Carter hadn't broken his neck. His legs took him up the creek bed racing the rebels to the clinic, then to the killing field, blindfolded and hoping he wouldn't feel pain when the bullet cracked into his skull. Then he was in the Land Rover driving to the satellite clinic, the bus in his rear view mirror.

Tilting his head up, squinting against the midday sun, he saw the helicopter, the beating of the blades in the sky drowning out the rebels as they tried to yell to each other. But the noise was closer than he remembered it, and louder. Throwing the covers off of him, Luka stumbled at first, then straightened up and moved forward intent on getting outside to where the noise came from in the predawn hours. He brushed his arm against the doorframes as he made his way out of each room and finally to the kitchen door, the noise getting louder and louder. He stumbled down the one step forgetting that it was there, the wind catching the aluminum screen door and holding it open against the house. The cold of the brick pathway overgrown in moss startled his feet but failed to trigger his brain fully awake. The sky was full of them - full of helicopters flying overhead, their lights blinking and strobing, the bellies of the ships just barely above the tree tops. He needed to get everyone to safety. There wasn't much time.


	15. Chapter 15 The Awakening

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_By Sharon R._

**Chapter Fifteen**

The noise reverberated in his head to the point that he thought he could feel his own ear drums beating in sync with the thudding. Reaching out to grab hold of Todd, Carter found that his own hand was slapped away, not by Paulette who was cradling his body, but by Jules who sucked in the air between his teeth, and laughed - no, snickered - with a satisfying menace.

"Too late, _Doctor _Carter," he admonished with his drawn out British accent, enjoying his spectacle. "Had you not selfishly left the chore to someone else, young Mr. Casey here would have been spared, don't you think? Such a waste."

"It should have been you," another voice called out to him from behind, so close he could feel the breath skim past his cheek, his tussled unkempt hair tickling his ear lobe ever so slightly. "What's the matter," she asked still unseen, "wasn't I good enough for the likes of you? Was my breeding not up to your specifications?"

He tried once again to reach out to Todd, only there was too much blood. He couldn't get a grip as his hands slipped from the boy's arms, his fingers leaving a trail of sticky smeared blood behind on Todd's lifeless arm. Without warning his wrists were jerked upwards, his feet slipping out from under him, his body hanging hopelessly at the mercy of his agonizingly stretched shoulders.

"_Life - is pleasant. **Death **- is…" _**No**. Not again. How many times had he heard this spit at him from Jules?

"… _peaceful. It's the transition…" _Carter flung his head back and forth, back and forth, trying to evade the vile man's words. He tried in vain to move his arms, but only his elbows could be made to jut out slightly.

"… _It's the transition that's troublesome." _

He could feel the heat as the sun beat down on his head, could feel it burn his arms and ravage the back of his neck as the rough ends of the burlap bag scraped over the raw skin. The smell was putrid, of body fluids and excrement, sweat and festering pus. It was his _own _revolting smell and was so bad that it turned his stomach.

"_Click_."

Why hadn't he heard that?

"_Click_."

He had heard it. He _had _heard Colleen cocking the gun, but was too busy listening to Jules and watching Luka as he silently came up behind Jules. But as Luka's gun pointed not at Jules, but at Carter's head, Carter wondered why Luka would do that. The look in his eyes scared him as Carter tried to let him know with his own eyes that he saw him. But the gun didn't move, only Luka's finger as he pulled the trigger…

Carter gasped for air as he bolted upright in bed, his arms outstretched as if to clumsily block the bullet from entering him. Holding his breath for a few seconds so that he could savor the silence, Carter put his hands down in his lap, the sheets trembling along with his legs. He finally exhaled but not without a sudden wave of nausea hitting him. Nearly stumbling to the floor, Carter haphazardly made his way to the bathroom running into the nightstand and jarring it painfully with his hip, finally making it just in time to puke into the toilet, the odor of the cold porcelain and previously flushed product adding to the heaves.

Sitting on the cold floor, his bare back against the tiled wall, he could feel his heart beating wildly, the palpitations exploding in his neck and wrists. His dreams had been nonexistent or at least peaceful the previous few nights, but this one was different. He didn't wake up pissed off at Jules, surly at the thought of Colleen manipulating him, or frightened at the prospect of the faceless torturers planning his day of pain. He was strangely settled with his dream being just that - a dream. Something else was stirring inside. Something that made him feel as though he needed to do something. Just what, he didn't know.

The cold water he splashed on his face only served to completely wake him up. It was still dark outside, his watch he rarely ever took off told him it was just past four thirty. Spitting out the toothpaste that barely took the rotten and acidic taste of vomit away, Carter looked at his face in the mirror. Puffy eyes, looking older lately he assessed. He's looked better, felt better, but taking a moment to search inside for that craving of magic meds to take him off to La-La Land, he couldn't find it. _Heh_, he thought, _that's gotta mean something_.

"Dr. John, are you alright?" Emily quickly stepped to the side, her back to the doorway, when she saw that Carter was in his bathroom. "I don't mean to intrude, but I heard a noise up here and, well, I worry about you."

"I'm painfully aware of that."

"You're in pain?" she asked, not sure she heard his mumbles correctly.

Carter found a t-shirt in his laundry basket and threw it on before going back into the bedroom. "No. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"My body clock is all messed up. Bridget was antsy, so I thought I'd start my day early."

"It's not day. It's the middle of the night."

"And you? What is your excuse?"

"Bad dream. Weird feelings."

"Oh, dear. You have been through so much, I wish you…"

"Emily, _please_."

"I was only going to say that you should find a beautiful woman to fall hopelessly in love with." Emily waited for Carter's inevitable smirk and sarcastic retort he had so often given her when she made the suggestion that he needed a loving woman in his life, but instead he sat in a chair at the far end of the room and stared out the window into the murky darkness. "What is it John?"

"Don't know. Just a feeling."

**_

* * *

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens _**

_-Carl Jung 1875-1961, Swiss Psychiatrist**

* * *

**_

The sky was full of them - full of helicopters flying overhead, their lights blinking and strobing, the bellies of the ships just barely above the tree tops. He needed to get everyone to safety. There wasn't much time.

"Luka?" Sam shouted from the doorway, her thin frame covered only in an oversized t-shirt. The wild man-made wind swirled the leaves and plant cuttings Sam had left behind from her day of gardening, occasionally pummeling her bare legs. "**_Luka_**?"

"Get everyone inside," he shouted back at her, his eyes trained on the sky. "Get the children out of here, Colleen_. **Go**_."

Did she just hear that? Sam came up behind him and gently put her hand on his back. She had to shout as well for Luka to hear her. "Luka…?"

One after another, the military choppers passed overhead. Luka began pacing and mumbling to himself not totally cognizant, his attention focused somewhere else. "Bob will know…," he said as he balled his hand into a fist and mindlessly beat it against his thigh.

"Know what, Luka?"

"Bob will know what to do," he shouted again, almost as though he were having a conversation with someone else. "I told you to get the children inside. The nurses will help." Back and forth he wandered speaking, or rather shouting, into the air. "Colleen, tell Sera to gather the mothers. I have to get to Bob. Where's Sean?"

"Sean's not here. Sean is… Luka, look at me. I'm not Colleen." She followed him around in his aimless pacing as he looked at everything _but _Sam, the wind blowing the strands of blond hair across her face. "Luka… Luka, _stop_." Her words went unheeded. "The helicopters are from Fort Drum. Sometimes they do maneuvers. I should have told you…"

"The Midway or clinic," he ordered interrupting her, "go there and don't leave the children. Why can't you just do what you're told?"

Squatting down, Luka put his hands over his ears, the noise too much for his already fractured thought process. His mumbles weren't clear to Sam.

"… _ambush_…"

She kneeled down in front of him hoping to get his attention, to wake him up. "Luka, look at me. **Look -at - _me_**."

His dark eyes opened wide and without removing his hands from his ears, without moving anything else, he turned those eyes upward and connected with Sam's almost magnetically. "Does Jules know you're here? Did you bring _them _here?" he asked darting his eyes skyward.

"What? Who?"

"I should have known. You used us all. **_You took everything from me_**," he said standing up and walking away, turning every few steps to come back to Sam, his voice still raised to counter the thudding of the choppers. "Are you laying with him? Do you do the same thing to Jules as you do for me? That you want to do with Carter?"

"What are you _talking _about?" The words hurt, stung, and made her feel dirty as though she had actually done what Luka had inferred.

"If you sell your passion, your body parts, what exactly am I to pay you? I assume my love making is of some value." His eyes gave away his profoundly deep anger and hurt, though Sam was too lost in her own wounds at that point to analyze his lucidity, or lack thereof. "You want cash? Maybe a trade then. Drugs? My soul? Or was it just Carter's soul you wanted, because you damn well almost got that too."

Sam's tears flowed freely as she put her arms out to him wanting to push him away while at the same time needing to hold him, comfort him, bring him back to the present. "Luka, please," she pleaded.

"Was that a smile on your face? Did you enjoy taunting me with the gun to Carter's head?" Luka walked straight up to Sam and finally got in her face. "I think you felt some sort of sexual charge out of the show you gave me and Jules. Is that what does it for you?" He grabbed her wrist as she wiped the tears from her cheek and held it tightly, _very tightly, _in front of her face. "Did you really think I would let you blow Carter's brains out? Or did you think that your performance would make me hard?" With that, he pulled her hand down and into his crotch, holding it there for effect. "Is that all I am to you? Or does Jules service you better?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sam sobbed almost uncontrollably as she fought to stay in control. "Luka, you're hurting me. Please… I love you, but…"

Something in Sam's voice brought him back to her. As the last of the helicopters flew overhead, Luka's face seemed to unfold from the hell it had been in. A final gust of wind popped him in the face forcing him to suck in a deep breath like the first of a newborn baby. "Sam?"

Nodding, almost reluctantly, she brought her free hand to her face trying to push back the sobs, her fingers becoming moist from the wet of her eyes and nose. "Luka, please… I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated as she stepped back and moved her other hand away from his groin although still gripped harshly by Luka.

"My God…," he said, his voice still raised to offset the noise of the choppers even though the last one had cleared the tree line, "… _I_… did it, Sam. I… I killed her." Stunned as he saw his own hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, he let go and moved away, horrified at his actions. "I'm the one who shot Colleen. **_I_** killed her." It was as if the seal of rust and corrosion on a centuries old chest had been broken open revealing that which had been kept a mystery for generations. The relief he felt was tempered by the horrified look on Sam's face as she stepped back almost reflexively. "I _had _to kill her."

The sudden disappearance of the choppers and the revelation of Luka's recent past combined with the morning wake up songs of the mountain birds and muted sunlight sneaking up over the horizon couldn't have been more contrary. And the small sobs a few feet away coming from the barefoot little girl in a pale pink Barbie nightgown who had come outside to see what the commotion was all about, brought Luka's world crashing down around him.

**_

* * *

Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top _**

_-Virginia Woolf 1882-1941, British Novelist, Essayist**

* * *

** _

"Randi, who's that in chairs?" Kerry asked trying to get a good look at the man in the overcoat. "He looks familiar.""A detective working on a murder case. Said he needs to speak to Dr. Carter."

"He's not on until tonight."

"Oh," Randi said, cracking her gum, "told him to wait while I checked the schedule. I assumed he'd be on days again."

"I'll talk to him." Kerry opened the security doors and waved the man in. "Were you here the other day?"

"Yes, hello." Pulling his coat back to reveal his badge and holstered gun, the man introduced himself. "I'm Detective Danielson. I've been working on a murder case that involved two of your doctors."

"I wasn't aware that they were involved."

"Not technically. They're the only people here who knew the victim."

"Well, Dr. Kovac is out of town and Dr. Carter isn't on until this evening. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Maybe there is," he said pulling out a notepad and flipping through the pages. "I need to do a follow-up interview with an Artie Bishop."

"Artie? In Waste Management?"

"I guess so."

"Randi, call down to Waste Management and have them send Artie up here."

Pointing to the bay door with her pencil, Randi kept working on the computer. "He's outside with creep-face Bobby. I think they're avoiding trauma-1."

"Figures. We just had a messy trauma." Walking the man back through security and out the door, Kerry left him with Artie who was shooting baskets. "Artie, this police detective needs to talk to you. And when you're done I expect you to get in there and clean up the trauma room." She looked over her glasses directly at Bobby who was leaning against the wall behind the basket. "Got it, Bobby?"

"Yes sir, Dr. Weaver… m'am." He caught Kerry's dirty look as she went back through the doors, but didn't let it phase him. "Ooh baby, she's one hot mamma. Hey doofus," he spit out at Artie, "what'd you do? Put the makes on the little neighbor girl?"

"I didn't _do _anything," Artie protested back.

The man seemed to enjoy watching Bobby pick on Artie.

"Cops don't come calling for nothing, lame brain."

"You should know."

Danielson flipped open his notebook again and traded looks with the man sitting in the car to the side, nodding as he began his questioning. "Artie, I need to ask you some questions."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Have you done something?"

"No."

Bobby now became the spectator, but just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "He's too dumb to know if he did."

"Shut up," Artie yelled, loud enough for the paramedics returning to their rig to take notice.

"What can you tell me about Dr. Kovac and a nurse named Sam? Do you know where they are?"

"On vacation."

"And where would that be?"

"It's a secret. Nobody knows."

"Even you? I heard that Sam trusted you enough to tell you."

Bobby snorted. "That Russian doc has been shagging her for a while now. I heard she's quite the whore."

"Is not. She's a nice lady. She's not… not what you said." Artie threw the basketball at Bobby missing him by several feet. "And he's _Croatian, _stupid."

Danielson took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then leaned against the wall next to Bobby and offered him one as well. "You know Artie well?"

"Good enough to know that he has wet dreams about Nurse Sam and every other set of tits in this place."

"Yeah, well I don't know why I even bothered to ask him for help." He took a long drag and discreetly looked between the two guys, then nodded again towards the car. "Those mongoloids can't retain information long enough for it to be a busted secret anyway, if you know what I mean." Artie heard it all, it was meant for him to hear, and Bobby was getting quite a bit of enjoyment out of the detective's flair for words.

"I'm not stupid," Artie gave back. "I have a job. At least **_I_** don't live at home anymore."

"You're a charity case and you live in a half-way house for dummies with half a brain." Bobby amused himself and elbowed the detective who managed a smile, but was obviously not wanting to continue this 'friendship' with the slacker much longer. "She wouldn't have told you jack shit, 'cause she knows you're nothing more than a slow-tard, low IQ shit for brains."

"_Am not_. She told me. She did."

Carl DeRaad exited an exam room and handed a chart to Kerry Weaver. "Good to see you back in the ER."

"Don't get used to it. I'm covering for Kovac. Are you going to admit her?"

"Three day hold, only, until I can talk to her primary." His attention was eerily drawn to the bay doors. "Who's that talking with Artie?"

"A cop working on that murder case - John and Luka's friend."

Carl stood up straight and continued staring out the doors, an ugly feeling building inside. "Danielson?" Without another word to a nodding Kerry, he walked out past security and into the bay.

"… she told me take a left on Route 3 at Fletcher's," Artie angrily pitched. "See? I do so know."

"Excuse me, I'm Carl DeRaad. I work in Psychiatry. Can I help you?" Carl was a polite and professional doctor, but this time something kept him from reaching out to shake the stranger's hand.

"Chicago P.D.," the man answered. "Just getting some information from my friend here."

Carl could read people - read them well, and Artie sure didn't look like he was this man's friend.

"Boy doesn't seem to want to cooperate."

"Tell you what. Why don't you let me talk to him. Come back tomorrow morning. I'm sure by then our _Mr_. Bishop will be better prepared to answer your questions."

Without another word, the man walked back to the car and got in the passenger's side next to another tall man, a third in the darkness of the back seat.

When the phone rang, Carter hoped it would be someone other than Norman Tyson who had been on his back since Sean died wanting to know who would be taking charge of the camp. Carter's idea of Toomay didn't bode well for the chauvinist and Carter was sure this was going to come down to a battle in the boardroom. Hearing Carl DeRaad's voice initially irritated him having been hunted down by the psychiatrist the day before.

"Carl, look, I appreciate your interest in my case, but your need to define me as paranoid is frankly… paranoid."

"_That's not why I'm calling."_

"Patient?" Carter asked, leaning against the hall console.

"_No. Artie Bishop."_

"What about him."

"_I was in the ER doing a consult. I saw Artie out in the bay with a man. When I went outside to talk to the guy, he was in no hurry to stick around."_

"A cop?"

"_Danielson. But I never knew a cop to be driving around in an -"_

"- eighty thousand dollar car," they said in unison.

Carter stood tall, more alarmed than ever. "It's the guy. Shit. How did he know…?"

"_Listen, I heard you talking on the phone yesterday at your house. Heard you tell your friend about the girl and Artie. John, I gotta say, I believe you **and **I am very concerned."_

"You heard me talk…" Carter paused, pulled the phone away from his face and looked around the empty foyer suddenly feeling not quite so alone. "Carl. I can't talk right now. Stay put." Hanging up, Carter rushed through the house yelling for Emily.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" she answered, racing from the kitchen drying her hands in a kitchen towel.

"That day that we were having phone problems. Did you call the phone company?"

"No. _You _did. Don't you remember? The repairman came and fiddled around with the phones."

"No, _I didn't_." Carter motioned Emily to step outside the back door. "Did you ever leave the guy alone?"

"No. Not at all. I even invited him to stay for coffee, but he wasn't much of a talker."

"Okay. I think just the phones are bugged, so don't use them. But to be safe, be careful what you say in the house. I'm going to go to the hospital and then probably out of town. I want you to use your own cell phone and call Beth Casterline at the Foundation. Tell her I have to take an emergency trip on the Foundation Jet _immediately _and that I'll call her within the hour with more details." Carter turned around as he started running back to the house. "And call from outside."

He didn't care what cops were sitting in their usual speed trap hiding places, Carter flew in the Jag all the way to the hospital. Luck must have been on his side as he blew a few stop lights and still made it without any police cruisers in his rear view mirror.

DeRaad was waiting for him in the lounge and quickly walked with Carter into Trauma-1 where Artie and Bobby were cleaning up.

"Artie, what did you tell the man?" Carter asked hurriedly.

"I didn't want to tell him anything, but Bobby was calling me names and saying mean things about Nurse Sam, and…"

Carter shot Bobby a dirty look but maintained his focus on Artie. "It doesn't matter what Bobby said." He cringed inside as he realized the dirt bag had the same name as his own brother.

"I didn't like that policeman," Artie assessed. "Something wasn't right about him. He called me a mongoloid."

Bobby laughed out loud. "Calls 'em likes he sees 'em."

"Shut up," Carter said, pointing at Bobby before taking a deep breath and composing himself for Artie's benefit. "Artie, you absolutely have to tell me, what did you tell the man?"

"I stuck up for myself, just like you said, Dr. Carter," he said proudly. "Bobby called Nurse Sam a… a… whore and said that she would never tell me anything. But I showed him."

Carter grimaced knowing that Artie had done just what he had told him to do. "What exactly did you tell the man?"

"That she said to take a left on Route 3 at Fletcher's."

"Okay. Where? What city?"

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Bobby interrupted. "That cop could have told him to bend over and grab ankles and Artie would have done it, maybe even enjoyed getting poked up…"

With that, Carter flew to the other side of the room and crashed Bobby up against the wall, rattling the mayo stand still holding instruments. "How about you shut your mouth, huh?" Carter's forearm held tightly against the kid's neck turned Bobby's face a dark shade of red. "So far Artie has shown more common sense and intelligence than you ever had, even before you fried what few brain cells you were born with."

"Yeah," he managed in a strained voice, "you'd know, wouldn't you. Everyone knows you're a junkie."

DeRaad in his calm manner stepped in between the two and pushed Carter away from Bobby. "Tell you what, Bobby," he said rather evenly, "you keep your mouth shut about this, leave Artie alone, never talk to that cop again, and I won't put you in the psych ward to be evaluated along side the violent sex offenders."

"You can't do that," he protested.

"All it takes is another doctor's signature for a three day hold," DeRaad answered.

Carter stepped back to Artie. "And I know several who would be more than willing to help. Now, _get out_."

With Bobby out of the room, Carter was able to attend to a less defensive Artie. "Okay, I know you, and I bet you didn't tell him everything."

"Just that she said to take a left on Route 3 at Fletcher's," he repeated.

"Nothing else?" DeRaad asked.

Artie shook his head. "That's all she _told _me. He didn't ask what Nurse Sam _showed _me on the map."

"Well there has to be more than one Route 3 in the country," Carter gave to DeRaad slightly relieved. "Artie, you were very smart. I'm proud of you. Can you show me? Can you show me on a map where they went?"

"It's a secret, I promised."

Stonewalled again, Carter fought within himself to keep his cool. "Artie, Nurse Sam and Dr. Kovac are in danger. That man you talked to wasn't a cop, but you knew that, didn't you? He was a very bad man who wants to hurt a little girl Nurse Sam is taking care of."

"I don't want him to find the little girl."

"I know you don't. But you have to trust me. I need to get to them first. Can you help me? Please, I know Nurse Sam would want me to know." Artie finally nodded and Carter took him by the arm out to the Admit desk where he could use one of the computers.

Artie quickly pointed to the map of New York State and the small town of Oswegatchie.

"Shouldn't we call the State Police there?" DeRaad asked.

"No. These guys are good. I don't know who they are but they know what I'm doing, they disguise themselves as cops, and the last thing I need to do is bring attention to Sam and Luka."

"How'd it go, Artie?" Kerry asked, returning to the board. "Ready to get to work in the trauma room?"

Thankfully, Artie clammed up and looked to Carl and Carter for help.

"Artie is not feeling well," Carter chimed in. "He's going to take a few days off."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Artie. You want me to call your mother?" Everyone knew Artie and his family.

"No thanks." Carl gave Artie a friendly pat on the back. "I'll get him home."

"Kerry, I need to talk to you about some time off, you know, to, ah… decompress," Carter fudged.

"Are you alright?"

Carl stepped in and continued Carter's charade. "He's making good progress, but stress from the job will just set him back, I'm afraid. Call it doctor's orders."

Carter tried his best to put on a look of haggard exhaustion as Kerry looked him over.

"Okay. I'm glad you took me up on my offer. Take as much time as you need. We'll make do."

Once Kerry was out of ear shot, Carter managed a wide grin. "Gee Carl, I didn't know you were such a good actor."

"Treat enough pathological liars and you learn a few tricks."

Getting flight plans approved in anything less than twelve hours - post 9/11 - is nothing short of miraculous, but it helps when your family name is synonymous with dollar signs during election time, and Carter's grandfather had been very generous to Republican candidates. For once, John Carter wasn't too proud to call in a favor from someone he hadn't even voted for.

The small private airport in Saranac Lake handled a regular clientele of vacationing higher-ups from New York City, so the Carter Foundation Leer jet luckily didn't look out of place when it touched down. Sam wasn't on the best terms with him back in Chicago. He cringed to think what his presence at their 'secret' vacation spot would bring out in her. A car he had arranged for was waiting as directed and he started off on the hour or so drive further into the mountains towards Oswegatchie. Once he got to the little Fletcher's Motel on Route 3, the description Artie had given him fit like a 'T'. Over the rumble bridge, a sharp left turn and on the right on the rise stood a small white house with a prominent stone chimney.

The house was so quiet. Too quiet. Sam sat at the little kitchen table, her eye on the door hoping that Luka would walk back in. Not only had Amanda heard Luka's confession, but Alex had followed Amanda from the bedroom that morning and was standing on the stoop outside the door when Luka had fallen apart. Amanda spent her time by herself watching Grover from the boulder or rocking on the screened porch looking at her mother's things she had brought in her backpack, and most unwilling to talk with anyone. Alex found things to do in the attic and garage, but he was no more talkative than Amanda. Sam was left to worry about Luka who had wandered away, worry about the children, and wonder about what she had heard come from Luka. When she heard a car come up the driveway she hoped it was Uncle George or one of her cousins - anyone she could talk to.

Carter parked behind Luka's SUV and turned off the engine. He sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. He knew where he was going to take them, just not how to convince Sam to leave with him. He was struck by the beauty, fresh air and almost severe silence of the place when he got out of the car. The squeak of the aluminum storm door drew him to Sam who stepped outside, walked down the broken brick pathway towards Carter then surprisingly threw her arms around him.

He was shocked at first by Sam's secure hold on him, her tears soaking through his shirt, her ragged breaths becoming less and less held back.

"I don't know what to do. He needs you, Carter."

"What happened, Sam? Where's Luka?"

"Something's changed. He's not the same."

"What happened?" he repeated, softly stroking her hair.

"I don't know. He hasn't been sleeping. He wanders around. Doesn't talk much. And then this morning when it wasn't quite light yet, these helicopters from the army base flew overhead and he lost it. He called me Colleen, wanted to know where Sean was."

"He was hallucinating?"

"No, I don't think so. He finally woke up outside, right here. And started yelling at me about killing Colleen. Amanda heard, and Alex… Did he? Did he really kill Amanda's mother?"

"He didn't have a choice, Sam." Carter held her tight. He didn't want to have to tell her - not this way at least. "Colleen… she got involved with some really bad people, even the guy who kidnapped us last year. She had a gun to my head. Sam, he saved my life but it's eating him up inside. He's afraid of losing you - was scared to tell you."

"Oh God, Carter, I don't know what to do."

Carter finally managed to push Sam's shoulders from him so that he could look at her face. "Where is he now?"

"He went to the camp. Said he wanted to be alone, didn't want Amanda to have to be near him."

"What camp?"

"It's a hunting cabin up Skate Creek Road at the end of the driveway. He hates that place, said it gives him the creeps. It doesn't make sense that he'd go there."

"It makes perfect sense," Carter said almost to himself. "It'll be okay, Sam."

Drying her tears, pushing her hair behind her ears, Sam finally realized the strangeness of Carter's appearance. "Why are you here? How did you know?"

"Ah… Artie. It's a long story, but we have to get you out of here first thing in the morning." Carter caught sight of Amanda peaking at them from behind the screens of the porch. "Tell her I'll be back as soon as I talk with Luka, okay?"

Sam watched Carter as he disappeared out of sight, down the driveway and around the corner. She was left on her own again, standing in front of the house that had given her so much peace and happiness as a child, now holding two children whose lives had been so dramatically changed that morning. Closing the door behind her as she went back into the house, she didn't notice the empty spot in the corner where the shotgun had been stored.


	16. Chapter 16 The Smell of Blood

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
_by Sharon R.  
_**

**Chapter Sixteen**

By the time Carter was halfway up Skate Creek Road, his Italian Peron Calzolai shoes were covered in reddish sandy dirt. It was just a narrow dirt road bordered on each side by an overgrowth of trees, some new, some old, a lot of them dead and rotting in various states of pose. He had no idea how far up this cabin was and stopped, wondering if he had gotten lost. Closing his eyes to sigh out the nerves that had crept in, the beauty and tranquility of the forest was replaced by a freight train of raw fear as the critters in the trees, crunching leaves and twigs under foot and wind whistling through the tree tops were amplified ten times. He shook his head with the next breath that tickled his nose with the smells of the humid jungle spiced with fragrant wild flowers and ripe fruit fighting against decomposing insect filled wood, decaying corpses, and oil used to clean machete blades. When he opened his eyes he found his hands curled into fists and his neck instinctively tensed in a defensive pose - the smells only in his head.

"This is crazy," he whispered to himself as he forced his feet to move forward.

It felt ten degrees cooler in the shady spots which were getting more numerous as the forest thickened and green canopy overhead spread wider over the road. Carter found himself kicking stones, clapping his hands in front of him in cadence with his stride and even clearing his throat unnecessarily just to make the journey less unknown and more controlled. The clearing to the right as he came around a curve in the road held a simple one-seater outhouse snuggly between two trees to the rear of a parking area large enough just for one car. To the side, Carter followed a simple path a few yards to the edge of the camp consisting of the cabin, a pond and small bridge disguised as a beaver dam.

If Luka was there, he was keeping to himself awfully well. Carter hesitated when he got to the door of the cabin - not for long, only a few seconds, his knuckles just inches from the aged wood planks not really wanting to knock. As he swallowed and took in a breath, he finally gave the rickety door a few raps then took a couple steps back to allow the door to be opened, but it never did. Hoping it was the right cabin, Carter decided to take the initiative to walk in, but when he grabbed the handle he was disappointed to find it locked.

Now what? The last time he heard such silence was when he and Luka were taken to Bob's compound after _that _night where the only thing to be heard was their own heartbeat. At the water's edge, Carter stooped over and picked up a couple of smooth stones and nervously clacked them together in his hand as he looked around the camp area hoping to see signs of Luka. The dissonant calm tweaked his usually well managed being and made him turn around sharply and look back at the cabin. No reason. Just… something.

Tossing the stones into the stagnant pond to break the tension, he watched as the resulting ripples disrupted the brown tinged scum along the edges and took his eyes to the dilapidated crossing that he hoped might take him to the other side of the pond. He squeezed his feet across what was left of the rickety exposed foot bridge to get to the compact beaver house that loomed over what should have been a spillway for the water, the last few feet of the crossing long since decayed into the water. No Luka in sight. He thought about calling out to him, but Carter found himself needing to maintain his security, to hide his presence, yet he couldn't help being curious about the dam. He didn't like not knowing what it was and used a long stick to poke away some of the twigs covering the opening near the surface of the water before jabbing it once, twice, right inside.

Dumping the stick in the water to become part of the dam by default, Carter stood up but startled when a furry critter scurried into the woods causing him to wobble quickly off the foot bridge back to the bank of the pond, his left foot securely buried in pond scum. He leaned on one arm braced against a tree and took the expensive shoe off shaking the water from it. Large black flies attracted by the pond water buzzed his face, a couple biting him hard on the back of the neck, before Carter waved them away with his shoe, the mud and dirty water spraying his face. Mushing his foot back into the ruined shoe, he caught sight of the yellow plastic sign tacked on the tree under his hand:

**POSTED **

PRIVATE PROPERTY  
HUNTING, FISHING, TRAPPING OR  
**TRESPASSING FOR ANY PURPOSE  
****IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN**

**VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED  
****RS Taggart and sons**

"Yikes." The Deliverance Banjo made an unwelcome visit in Carter's head as he read that. "At least I'm at the right house, or shack… hunting cab…, whatever." He stood there by the tree, the pond and cabin in front of him feeling eerily not alone.

With no sight of Luka, Carter decided to go back to the main house and see if he had somehow gone back there, but by the time he had reached the corner of the cabin, his wet shoe was gummed up inside and out with the gritty earth and he settled his backside on the step in front of the screen porch. The shoe leather was weepy - he regretted having spent the money on the shoes and, even more so, his rush to leave Chicago without an extra pair. Once he got the mess out and had plied the shoe in enough directions that he was sure it was going to stay on his foot, he leaned back and brought his knee up, slipping his wet socked foot inside. The crude screen door latched with an eye hook from the inside popped open from the force of Carter's backside causing him to fall backwards into the porch, his sore hip from the morning's collision with the nightstand not enjoying the contact with the old uneven planks of the floor.

As if it couldn't get any worse, the loosely framed door bounced back on its hinges and rudely smacked Carter on the side of the head as he attempted to right himself. So far, he assessed as he pulled himself to his feet scratching the growing black fly bites on the back of his neck, this back woods adventure wasn't going very well. Now he had to explain breaking and entering.

Standing and bending over to brush the dirt from the knees of his khakis, Carter heard a slight shuffling inside the door leading to the small living room of the cabin and had a vision of being attacked by a crazed, rabid, wild animal. _Who knew New York State was so… primitive_, he thought. Giving wide berth to the field mouse that scurried over his shoe towards the chewed through screen panel, Carter chuckled to himself at his touchy nerves as he walked into the cozy cabin.

The musty smell would take getting used to, but Carter didn't plan on sticking around long enough for that to happen. Just inside the door he turned the corner into a small room with a large made bed. On the small bureau sat a bowl he assumed had been used as a crude sink, and a stack of towels. Instinctively he smelled one before he used it to wipe his face of the splattered mud he put there earlier, then after he rolled up his shirt sleeves and finished wiping down the dirt and sweat, he went back into the living area.

"You need some water?" a voice asked him from the shadows in the far corner between the wall and the fireplace.

Carter was startled at first, but knew it was Luka, his voice stilted slightly by his unmistakable Croatian accent.

"Yeah. Got a little dirty out there." Moving closer to Luka, letting the orange hew of the setting sun illuminate his half of the room, Carter stopped short when he saw the glint of the machete blade sitting across Luka's lap. "You have plans for that?" he asked, nodding towards the weapon.

"Not at this moment." Luka sat motionless, each knee topped by a hand. "Sam call you?"

"No."

"What are you doing here?"

Carter shrugged. "Had nothing better to do. Thought I'd check out your digs - get back to nature." He tried to inject some humor, tried to appear to be relaxed, but Carter was edgy and ill at ease as Luka maintained his statue-like position in the chair. "You, ah, want to talk about it?" He nervously played with his watch but didn't move any closer to Luka whose eyes continued in a dark, unblinking downward stare. "Hey… Luka?"

"What do you want?" His words were a flat monotone, as flat as his facial expression.

"Sam's worried about you."

"I told her -"

"- I know."

"I didn't want to hurt her. I'm afraid I've lost her -"

"- No, you haven't."

Carter knew from experience, both with patients as well as himself, not to ask too many questions. He needed to get Luka's trust, wherever his mind was at the time. But he also needed to get that machete away from him. He finally moved from the spot he was in, off to Luka's side out of the glaring late day sun. Parking himself on a step stool left by the fireplace, Carter looked up into Luka's eyes.

"What can I do for you, Luka?"

Even if his body remained frozen in place, Luka's eyes finally moved almost scoping out the room, where in fact they were darting back and forth, a result of his splintered thinking and inability to string together fluid thoughts.

Carter leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "How much sleep have you had?" he asked quietly. "Dreams?"

"It's not like that -"

"- Nightmares?"

"Nothing to talk about -"

"- Flashbacks?"

"_You wouldn't understand_." Luka finally tipped his head up straight and looked at Carter, his face dark with anger.

"Yeah, I would." The calm in his voice drastically countered Luka's defensive tone. "Spent a week or more seriously sleep deprived, couldn't think straight but in my mind there was nothing wrong with me. I haven't been handling this very well," he admitted. "Went on a drinking binge last week that landed me in our own ER with Pratt as my treating physician. What a joy that was. Started seeing DeRaad…"

Luka snorted disgust. "Why don't you just get out? Leave me alone."

"I know you've had differences of opinion with him in the past," Carter said, ignoring Luka's self pity, "but he's a decent guy."

"You told him about me."

"Not entirely, no."

"Who have you been telling then?"

"Nobody. I haven't been able to talk about it any more than you have." Carter shifted on the stool as he looked inside himself. "But I've taken the steps to recognize that I'm not the same - that what happened, from being held by Jules, the "Romano" guy and what he did to me, Colleen, to Sean's death - has made me, well, unhealthy I guess. And that not talking about it just buries it deeper inside making me sicker."

"You saying I'm in denial?"

"I'm saying that we both are."

"I know _exactly _what I did, who I _killed _and who I _hurt_."

Carter sighed and unconsciously rubbed his eyes as the realization set in that Luka was just as stubborn in the throes of depression as he was in the ER. "Look, I want to help you -hell, I need help myself - but not with that thing between us," he said pointing to the machete. "Can I just…?" Carter slowly stood and reached for the handle of the machete, taking a signal from Luka who finally sat back in the chair. With great care, Carter put the over sized blade up on the fireplace mantle well out of easy reach. "Luka, you need to talk about it. We both do."

"We've talked about it with each other -"

" -No," Carter corrected him, "we've exchanged looks. Nodded in agreement as our thoughts each went there. A word here or there, but we've never talked about what happened and what it's done to us."

"What's the point? We were both there. We know what happened."

"I know what I saw and it was very different than your experience."

"You saw me kill Colleen."

"I saw you point the gun at me and pull the trigger. I didn't even know Colleen was behind me."

"What does it matter?"

Carter angrily got up from his seat and let a frustrated groan escape. "It _matters _because I thought you were going to kill _me_. **ME**." Carter thumped his fist on his chest as if to make his point that much more obvious. "You had this look in your eyes," he said as he turned away from Luka and walked to the other end of the small room, "that was so dark and determined. How do I know that your aim just wasn't off? Huh? I mean, you _hated _me for what happened with Colleen. You _hated _me for bringing the truth about her into the open. How am I supposed to believe that you didn't really mean for me to get the bullet?"

"I knew what I was doing."

"How? You were sleep deprived, just like now. My head was a mess, I can't imagine that yours was any better."

"I knew."

Carter was on a tangent, pacing from a chair to the little kitchen area. "Jules was… the things he said… and then when I saw you, you had this look of pure rage. When you raised that gun your hand was _so _steady, I _knew _that you had made up your mind. I _knew _you were about to kill me -"

"- **I _knew_ what I was doing**," he shouted, startling Carter who flinched. "_I … **had **to… kill her." _Luka stood and leaned his hands against the mantle just below the resting machete, his head hanging down between his arms. "I'm a trained combat sharpshooter. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have."

_Well,_ thought Carter_, that's a comforting new piece of information._

They each turned their heads in the direction of what sounded like a motor in the distance getting closer and closer until it idled for a few seconds, then switched off. Luka grabbed the machete from the mantle and quietly walked over to the picture window near the front door and peered out around the edge with his back against the door to avoid being seen. "Someone's here."

"You sure?" Carter asked. "Anybody could drive up this road."

"George doesn't. Nobody's been down these roads since we've been here."

"George?"

"_Shhh_." Luka pulled his head back and nearly pasted himself to the wood door, beads of sweat slowly trickling down his face. "He's coming."

"I'll go talk to him. Just…" The machete blade in the hands of a currently emotionally drained and not quite rational Luka was not something Carter wanted to take outside to introduce to the neighbors, who may be playing banjos and carrying guns. "Just stay put," he cautioned as he went back outside through the screened porch.

"Hello." Carter spoke up hoping to get the guy to come around back away from the front door and Luka. "Back here."

A very tall, well built man appeared wearing a dark green uniform and sporting a sidearm, handcuffs, what looked like pepper spray and Carter's old friend - Mr. Taser. "What's your business here?" he asked Carter who maintained a safe distance next to the porch.

"Ah, just … ah, enjoying the mountains."

"Folks don't take kindly to squatters up here."

Carter was eager to agree with him and shook his head. "Not at all. It's a… it's a shame, really."

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your head. It's bleeding."

Carter reached up to the sore spot he'd almost forgotten about and put his fingers in the small trace of blood the man had seen. "Oh, shit. Sorry - I clocked my head on, um… on that outhouse. Guess I'm not cut out for this."

The man gathered a good amount of saliva and phlegm in his mouth and spit it out between his somewhat widely spread front teeth. "George know you're here?" he asked, his hand instinctively resting on his hip very close to his holstered gun.

"George? Oh… yeah. We're all set, thank you."

The man looked Carter up and down, more than once, tilting his head sporting a crooked nose as his keen eyes picked out that which was out of place. "Dressed awful nice for gallivantin' around in the back woods."

Carter looked at his button down Oxford shirt, khakis and Italian shoes half water logged. "Well, Sam didn't say where we were going. Didn't really dress for it."

"Sam? Sam Taggert?"

"Hmm? Yes, Sam Taggert. She loves surprises."

"She up at the house with the kids?"

"Yep. On vacation."

"You that foreign doc she's been dating then?"

Carter thought for a moment about what had been implicated, but at that point felt that a little white lie to someone he'd never see again was a lot easier than explaining Dark-Brooding-and-Maybe Suicidal inside with a guilty conscience over a murder he had committed, holding a very large knife. "Yes. That's me. _Doctor _Luka Kovac."

"Don't sound foreign."

"Uh, yeah, see…" Oh, how to explain that one. "I took diction lessons. Accent freaked out the patients. Bad for business." Carter raised up on his toes a bit as he pulled the next bit from his hat. "Jebac majke."

"Yeah, suppose it would be. Okay," the man said, spitting again, "name's Oscar Ackley, New York State DEC, Law Enforcement Division. I come up here couple times a month and make my rounds on my four-wheeler for three days at a time. Grew up with the people here, know the land, and know who's a squatter."

"Have a lot of problems with that?"

"Yeah, kids like to come over from Gouverneur or Tupper Lake. _Rabble rousers_. Usually looking for places to go drinking. I know all the spots so I try to look out for the land owners up here." Carter fidgeted but focused on looking totally interested in what the man had to say. "For most, the land has been in the family for a hundred years or more. Next generation has moved on and what's here is kind of melting back into the earth. Only people left in this area any more are just too old to take care of what's theirs."

"So you live here?" The man talked too much, but Carter figured if he kept asking the right questions, the guy would talk about himself enough to take his mind off what might be inside the cabin.

"Stationed out of Cranberry Lake, region six," he said, adjusting the waistband of his pants with inflated pride, "but this part of the park is my jurisdiction as well."

"Park?"

"Adirondack State Park. You're from the city, aren't you?"

"Chicago, er... now, at least."

"Six million acres, the size of Vermont. The land is private, but it resides within the park and is regulated as such since 1892. Poor old George can't light a match to cover his own farts without me giving him written permission. But what are you gonna do?"

"Yeah," Carter agreed trying to look and sound sympathetic, "what are you gonna do?"

He had moved to the back wall. Luka was breathing hard and fast, the machete close to his chest as he kept his shoulders squarely against the wall and one eye out the back window on Carter and the stranger. He couldn't see much past the bright haze of the setting sun as it stabbed through the trees, in through the back window and out the front. Closing one eye and squinting the other he managed to see only Carter who looked to be nodding his head and maintaining some normal mannerisms, yet fiddled with his watch and rubbed the back of his neck. Luka knew Carter was barely keeping his nerves together, but he also knew the guy couldn't tell. Carter had been able to keep his composure while being tortured by psychopathic rebels. This was a piece of cake.

Assured that Carter had the stranger in hand, Luka let himself retreat from the insanity and slid down the wall, his head falling forward in exhaustion to his knees, the machete still held tightly by his side, the blade resting on the floor. It was so easy… so easy to drift into the nether zone of sleep, into that halfway point between awake and REM where consciousness plays tricks with the mind in a blur of reality. _He couldn't see through the burlap sack over his head, but he could smell them. He could smell their body odor and rancid breath, the smell of food having just been eaten, and on better days a rare washing with soap, no doubt stolen from relief workers begging for their lives. _

"Well, I guess I'll head back," Ackley said, giving Carter a good-old-boy's whack on the back, too hard, but maybe that was his intention. "You have any questions, I'm sure George can answer them for ya. Have him call me if you need anything. I'll be here until Wednesday night staying over to my sister's in Edwards." Walking back to his four-wheeler parked by the outhouse, Oscar gave Carter a wave. "Good to see George hasn't blown the shit out of that beaver dam. Would hate to have to write him up again. Don't let him talk you into target shooting with the beavers. Ya hear?"

"Wouldn't think of it."

_And blood - it only had a smell when exposed to heat and humidity - blood dried on a machete blade, the elements mingling with the metal composition and oils to form an eerie pattern that resembled a spider web. If his feed sack was not down all the way Luka could see the rebels' feet and the blades they carried everywhere with them. The shinier ones with kids. The more 'webs', the older and more experienced the rebel. The younger ones were eager to earn their web marks - Luka prayed that the blades that came to get Carter weren't shiny._

Carter followed the officer back out to the parking area and his four-wheeler, not the kind he'd expect with official markings. This one had a total camouflage paint job and a matching gas can strapped to the back. As Ackley revved the engine and peeled out up Skate Creek towards the fork with the driveway and Browns Falls Road, Carter finally took a nervous deep breath and walked back to the cabin's front door.

_Through the bottom of the sack, Luka could see the tell tale signs of sunset as the dark streaks of late day sun pierced through the boards of the hut and traveled over to the locked door, the straight lines curving as the light bent over what he was holding in his hand. How the machete got there, he didn't know. He could hear truck engines revving outside the hut. Must be Jules. Jules is the only one worthy of such fine modes of transportation. The door opened and footsteps shuffled into the hut. _

Carter opened the door slowly hoping not to startle Luka, but was relieved to see him on the opposite side of the cabin sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up propping his head. Didn't know why, but he laughed a little as he saw him sleeping like a baby, machete in hand, under a framed picture of a man skinning a Black Bear.

_He knew that laugh and hoped that he could pretend to be asleep through his fury until Jules got close enough - until he could feel his repulsive breath on him as he spoke._

Squatting down to slowly wake him, Carter gently stepped on the blade so as to keep it where it was. "Hey Luka, wake up. Talk to me…"

"… _why don't you want to talk to me, Luka? Huh? I give you food, water..."_

"Aren't you hungry?"

"_Surely, you jest…" _

"I just want to get out of here."

"…_Where is the third man that was with you?"_

"That man is gone. Come on, my friend. Do this for me…"

"_You see, my friend, I can make anyone do just about anything for me."_

Without warning, Luka lunged at Carter but the blade of the machete anchored to the floor by Carter's foot kept Luka back long enough for Carter to scramble back awkwardly on his hands, his stray foot knocking the machete clear of Luka's hand, but Carter was at a disadvantage both physically and mentally.

His eyes were glassy and red - the wild look Sam had talked about. Half awake, maybe fully awake, Carter didn't know or care as he used all his power to get off his back and on his feet. Unfortunately, the almost forgotten tragedy of his past came back to haunt him as his lower back, never quite what it had been prior to the stabbing, could not support him as he staggered in his 'crab walk' exodus from Luka's alternate world.

_He grabbed first at Jules' right leg, then the left forcing him to the ground on his back. Luka took full advantage of his bigger size and the element of surprise he had created as he scurried to the vial man's upper body, his goal to pin his shoulders down and sink the machete through his neck, hopefully all the way to the vertebrae._

"**_Luka_**…" Carter was frantic, vying with Luka to be the first to reach the orphaned machete, winner take all. Luka was bigger, heavier and in his state of mind he was certainly more powerful. This was not lost on Carter as he knew it would take everything he could give to survive.

_Jules was panicking, he was just where Luka wanted him. "**I... hope… you suffer**," he told the rebel with as much hate in his voice as he could muster. Their fingers were reaching, taking every ounce of energy from them as the tiny bones stretched inhumanely towards the machete handle._

His body ached from the pressure above him, his grunts and groans unheeded. Carter took swings at Luka with his left hand before catching sight of the machete way off to his side and, abandoning the failed punches for the real prize, walked his fingers the last few inches to the handle, his right hand grabbing Luka's face - grabbing at anything, his ears, his jaw, his hair and neck - but even Luka's over-running saliva prevented Carter from getting a firm enough grip to cause real pain. The handle was right there, right at his fingertips…

…_if he could just get his fingers on the handle, and his face away from Jules' distracting hand, Luka knew he could get away. He sat on top of Jules now, the man taking every chance to flail his arms and legs at Luka, weak attempts to throw Luka off. _

Just as Carter thought he had it, had it with two of his fingers, Luka's longer arms gave the man the advantage - and the machete. Carter's only chance now was to pummel him, push his body off of his hips with all his might, and to try to bring him back to reality.

_Luka raised the machete high over his head, turning the blade horizontal to Jules' throat, and let out a guttural cry of both victory and torment as he took one last look into the man's eyes…_

He felt a defeat of proportion that could not be measured as his friend, one who had previously saved his life twice, now was in a position to kill him- a decapitation they had witnessed in all stages in Africa. Carter knew he couldn't win, and finally dropped his hands to his side, Luka's frightening scream and trembling head looming over him, his left hand pushing Carter's torso into the floor, the right with the blade gripped in Luka's white knuckled fist squarely above his neck. He pleaded with his eyes.

…_the man's eyes…_

"**Oh God**, Luka… please… **_no_**. Don't do this," Carter said as Luka's spittle strung down from his mouth, his fiery eyes finally making contact with Carter's. "**_Please!_**"

Luka froze, then with another gripping cry brought the machete down with brute force, the tip of the blade turned downward, finally driven three inches into the wood floor above Carter's shoulder. Luka's hands immediately flew to his own head and held it like a vice as though squeezing the madness from his brain.

With the blade free from Luka, Carter inched his way out from under him, scrambled as fast as he could to the door. He tried twice to get to his feet, his shaking legs forcing him to crawl and reach for the door handle, but even the old fashioned latch was too high for him to get to. Once again he was left to fend for himself with his back against the wall.

"_Carter…," _Luka cried with his eyes closed as though to force the image of the person before him.

He was exhausted - drained. Unable to move, Carter remained pushing his back up against the door, no where to go. "Luka… this isn't what you think," he pleaded. "Look at me."

On his knees, almost obscenely reverent, Luka finally took his hands away from his face and looked at Carter, his eyes tired and weak, his body weary - mind and spirit shattered. "What have I done?" he asked, his head tilting to the side, his body wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball and escape.

"It's not you, Luka. You are physically exhausted, you need sleep." Carter draped his arm over his raised knees and finally allowed himself to relax, his head falling forward like a dead weight.

"I thought I was dreaming, maybe I wasn't."

"It's like when Sam walked into my dream and I thought it was Colleen." Carter got to his feet but remained next to the door, not quite convinced - not totally convinced of his safety. "You're in a shitty place. This is too much like the jungle. These are the sense memories Carl was talking about and you have to get away from them."

"I didn't want Sam to find out, not this way. And the children… Am I dangerous?" Luka stood and walked towards Carter. "I didn't mean what happened, John. I thought you were… I couldn't…" As he reached out to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, Carter flinched and stepped to the side. A reflex or precaution. "I could never do… _that _to you."

Carter nodded unconvincingly, his face drawn down.

"What do I do?"

"You need to trust Sam," Carter said, his voice still unsteady. "You need her - she needs you. And you need to talk about what is inside your head. And eventually, _we'll _straighten things out with each other."

Luka dropped himself down into the one living room chair Carter had originally found him in, and let himself sink into it, his head resting on the back, his eyes closed. "Who was that guy? What did he want?"

"A park ranger, or DEC cop or something. Seems to know Sam and her family. He watches over the land up here, looks out for squatters."

"What else did he say?"

Carter allowed himself to move away from the security of the door and sat on the sofa opposite Luka. "Just a lot of chest pumping. Wanted to know if Sam was at the house with the kids. Luka, we've gotta get you out of here. They know where we are, or at least they're on the right track. I think we've got a couple days on them. Tomorrow first thing we leave."

Luka nodded and took a deep breath as he thought about Sam and Alex, what they had and what he had hoped they would have. Then as his brain settled down and took measure of what had just happened, his eyes flew open. "You said he asked about Sam and the kids."

"Yeah, wanted to know if they were up at the house."

"He said _kids_? Plural?"

Carter nodded as he, too, sat up straight. "He did. But Sam only has Alex. How would he know there was more than one? And that four wheeler… I didn't like the way it looked…"

Their hearts suddenly felt heavy as the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast east of the cabin, in the direction of the main house, coursed through their ears.


	17. Chapter 17 Overkill

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
_by Sharon R._**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Carter did an instant replay in his head of what the man had said to him and none of it told him that the man knew, until Carter mentioned anything, that Sam was at the house, and certainly that she had more than one kid. "What the hell was that?" he asked as he and Luka got up from their seats at the same time and looked out the front window of the cabin.

"Gunshot," Luka answered nervously, "from the house, I think."

With energy thought to be used up already, Carter and Luka bolted out of their seats and flew out the door of the cabin, running as fast as they could up Skate Creek Road trying to get to the driveway of the house in record speed. Although on their previous walks on that road they had both tripped on overgrown foliage, displaced rocks and tree roots pushing from the earth, this time their steps, although hurried, took them down the somewhat hazardous road with the care and ease they had eventually adjusted to in the jungle - their bodies just had to remember, the adrenalin the driving force.

Luka kept holding his breath, breathing only in spurts as he forced his exhausted body to run at speeds he thought weren't possible, too fast to avoid the stray whisps of green branches jutting out from the sides smacking him occasionally on his shoulder and face, the leaves leaving a noticeable sting.

It felt to them as though it was taking far too long to reach the end of the road, when they were actually taking just minutes to traverse the half mile or so. The fear creeping up inside them mimicked that which had possessed them the day they ran for their lives up the creek bed in the Congo trying to get the Vancomycin to the little girl at the clinic, Jules' rebel soldiers tight on their heels - too tight, they had eventually found out. Only this time they weren't running _away_ from danger - they were running _towards_ it.

Finally they got to a point where they could see where the dirt road forked with the driveway and main road. Knowing they would have to muster enough energy to run up the driveway - uphill - they both instinctively stopped, hands on hips, and sucked in as much air as their lungs could handle to compensate for what they had denied on their trek. It was at that exact moment while they struggled to re-energize their overtaxed bodies that they saw the camouflaged four-wheeler race down the driveway and turn onto Browns Falls Road, barely slowing to negotiate the turn.

There was no time to spare and without even thinking, they let their feet take them to the top of the hill where they stopped suddenly wondering where Sam and the kids were. Dusk had settled on the mountain leaving little but shadows and dusty haze beyond several yards. Carter and Luka turned in circles looking for any sign of the kids, their ears like radar hoping to hear Sam, finding nothing but silence.

Luka finally charged into the house calling for Sam and the kids. It took him seconds to peer into each tiny room and conclude that they weren't there. The house was empty.

"_Luka!_" Carter's voice boomed from outside. "_Luka, they're here._"

Back out the kitchen door, Luka saw Sam, Alex and Amanda carefully making their way down the steep hill on the other side of the driveway, Alex's arm held firmly by his mother.

"Where were you?" Luka asked frantically as he reached up and took the shotgun from Sam.

"Alex here decided he should go play Grizzly Adams, but luckily someone got to him first."

"What?" Luka asked. "Who?"

"Oscar Ackley. He works with the DEC."

"I met him at the camp," Carter said. "He's the real thing?"

"And then some, in _his_ head at least."

"You know him?" Carter asked.

"He pined over me every summer. Wanted so badly to be my knight in shining armor and was crushed with each _'no'_ I gave him. Every time he saw Uncle George he'd ask about me, where I lived, my phone number. So George finally told him that I had six kids and got fat and dumpy."

"That explains things," Carter mumbled. "Oh boy. I called him a mother fu…" Carter stopped short as his eyes glanced at the kids. "…in Croatian. You don't suppose…"

"The English language was always hard enough for him to comprehend," Sam explained with a bit of a snort. "I don't think you have to worry."

"Did he hurt you too?" the little voice asked. She had been staring at Carter, paying no attention to Sam's story.

"Who?"

Amanda pointed at Carter's head where the door had smacked him, the forgotten blood now dried at his hairline.

"No. _No_, sweetheart," Carter answered squatting down to let her get a better look. "I was kind of clumsy and let a door at the camp get the better of me." She looked deep into Carter's eyes, still not convinced. "Luka didn't hurt me. He wouldn't."

"_Let **go**_," Alex complained, straining against Sam's hold on his upper arm.

"Not on your life." If she could have, she would have tightened her grip even more. "Oscar caught him aiming the gun at an old tin can set on a log right up the hill in direct line with the house. Grabbed the gun just as Alex pulled the trigger."

"I would have hit the can," Alex moaned.

"And then the bullet could have killed your mother or Amanda." Luka grabbed Alex by the other arm. "Don't _ever_ play with guns. They only have one purpose."

"Yeah," Alex spit back, "you should know."

"_Alex!_" Sam tugged at Alex who had become a tug-o-war. It was the first all day that Luka had talked to them and it had come down to bitter and angry words.

"It's okay." Luka let go of Alex. Looking at the faces in front of him - of Sam, Alex and Amanda - he suddenly realized the irony of the situation and handed the gun off to Carter before turning around and going into the house alone.

Sam and Carter exchanged looks, knowing looks, as she stood with a child to each side, Alex feeling the burn of the scolding and Amanda in total emotional shut-down, not giving anything away.

"Go, Sam," Carter gave her quietly, "he needs you. I'll talk to the kids."

She hesitated but with a nod from Carter, left him with the kids to go to Luka.

He walked into the kitchen and parked himself on the little radiator seat at the end of the table. He wasn't sure why, just that he felt secure there against the little door holding the ironing board within, his knees bumped up against the edge of the table. Luka shifted against the curves of the radiator barely protected by the ages-old cushion and smoothed his hands over the surface of the table top. Closing his eyes, he saw an image that he had long forgotten, of his own grandfather as he 'held court' every evening in the warmth of the kitchen where the wood stove sat which served as the sole heat source in the old farm house. Lots of coffee, an unending supply of cigarettes, and grapa for those old enough to partake.

"Tired?"

Luka took in a deep breath as he let his heavy eyelids open at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Just thinking about my grandfather. How he would smoke his cigarettes after dinner, enjoy his grapa and tell stories about the old world and how things used to be before they had appliances and telephones. They sent us kids to bed, but we still listened through the vents."

"He was that old?"

"No," he smiled, "but electricity and other modern conveniences were slow to get to his part of the world." Luka kept his eyes trained on the table and watched as he mindlessly tinkered with a spoon. "My grandfather had a tractor, but that was a luxury. I remember the farmers hauling hay by horse and wagon right past the church. Danijella laughed about how our wedding pictures would look a hundred years old with the horses…" His voice trailed off as he looked around at his surroundings and realized what he had been talking about.

"I wouldn't mind seeing those pictures sometime," Sam ventured cautiously.

"They don't exist anymore."

"Huh?"

"War." One word said it all as Luka got to his feet and went into the bedroom far enough from the conversation to avoid it any further.

* * *

"Come on," Carter told the kids, "let's find some place to sit down."

"I don't have to go with you," Alex snipped.

"You know what? Yes, you do. And you will." Carter was tired, spent and lacking of patience, as he grabbed Alex's arm at the same spot Sam had vacated and pulled him along following Amanda as they went behind the garage to the boulder where he climbed up on top and sat to the side facing the two kids. "Now, you can ask me anything you want and I promise I'll tell you the truth."

The kids remained stationary staring at the rock or trees, but not even so much as glancing at Carter.

"Okay," Carter started, "I know that you heard Luka say that he shot Amanda's mother..."

Now they looked at him.

"This is very hard to talk about and I can't tell you every single thing. I need you to understand that." He waited for both kids to acknowledge this with a nod. "Your mother, Amanda, had met some very bad people in Africa. They talked her into doing some bad things and one night when I was talking to one of these men, she aimed a gun at my head. I didn't know it at the time, but Luka, who was secretly standing behind the bad man, did and he had to think very fast. He was saving my life, and ever since then he has had to live with what happened, and in some way he lost part of himself that night." He didn't want to get into details, the kids certainly weren't pressing him to with their silence.

"Why couldn't he save my mom?" Amanda asked quite pointedly with a hint of bitterness.

The hard question. "That's what he set off to do. You see, he left on foot from the camp in Uganda and even crossed the border into the Congo because he thought your mother was in danger. Amanda…, Luka was risking his life to save her from these bad men. He had no idea that she was working with them until that last night."

"My mother's not like that. She wouldn't kill anybody," Amanda angrily divulged. "I don't know why I'm supposed to believe you anyway. You lied to me about Sean."

"No -"

"Yes you did. When I left Chicago he was already dead, wasn't he?"

Carter was caught in his own deceit. There was nothing to do but own up to it. "Yes."

"People think that just because we're kids they have to lie to us. Then they tell _us_ not to lie." Alex moved closer to Amanda, finally recognizing an ally.

"It's not that," Carter tried t explain. "Look, I think you two are more mature than your age. Can you handle some scary news?"

The kids looked at each other as if to confer, then nodded.

"We had to get you out of Chicago because some very bad people are after Amanda. We didn't have time to sit down and tell you about Sean, at least not the right way. We had minutes to get you on the road."

"What about Luka?" Alex asked. "He could have told us."

"Once he got here, being in the woods gave him frightening thoughts and memories about being in the jungle. You don't know this but when we were in Africa the first time, Luka and I were kidnapped by horrible men called rebels. They hurt us badly and we're dealing with that still." He stopped to make sure he had their attention. He did. "Luka is afraid of saying things that will hurt you both. Alex's mom and himself too. He needs time _and_ he needs friends."

"How come you came?" Alex asked. "This was supposed to be a secret."

"Well," Carter didn't know how to answer this without alarming them, "these bad people found out where you might be. I think I'm at least a day ahead of them, so first thing in the morning we have to leave."

"You know too many bad guys," Alex grumbled, not quite willing to believe Carter's story. He looked at Amanda for back up, but she obviously bought everything Carter said.

"I know all about these bad men. They want to hurt my dad, so they try to hurt me." Her words were aimed at Alex, but she was reminding Carter, as well. "Where are we going this time?" Amanda asked as she watched Grover come out for his evening feeding.

"That's _my_ secret." The kids seemed to be amazingly cool with the explanation, though still quiet as they looked at the groundhog. "A friend of yours?" Carter asked.

Amanda nodded. "Grover Groundhog. But he's not eating his food today."

"Maybe he's had enough," Alex surmised.

"Maybe." Amanda drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. "He'll have to learn to get his own food again anyway after tomorrow."

* * *

"Carter says we have to leave first thing in the morning." Sam stood in the doorway careful not to intrude too much in Luka's solitude.

"You go with him - take the children. I'll stay here."

"No, Luka…" Sam moved over to where he was sitting on the bed and got down on her knees so she could look up into his face. "You have to come with us. These people -"

" -aren't looking for me," Luka finished for her. "It's not me they want. If I stay, maybe I can be like a decoy. It worked before in Chicago - gave us a few days."

"Don't you think they're smart enough to consider that this time?"

"You're safer without me." Luka grabbed a towel from the bureau top along with his sweats. "I'm going to take a shower and sleep on the sofa." Before Sam could say anything, he had shut the bathroom door behind him.

After Sam had safely tucked the kids in bed, and retreated alone to her own, Carter and Luka had time to talk in the living room, though talk was not what Luka really wanted to do.

"Don't psychoanalyze me, Carter."

"Hadn't planned on it. Psych wasn't my best rotation."

"I'm staying behind here at the house."

"So Sam tells me." Carter waited for Luka to say something, but instead he sat on the sofa as if fighting sleep. "I wish you wouldn't. It's not fair to Sam."

"I might hurt them."

"No. I don't think so." Carter reached in his pocket and took out a vial. "Get a good night's sleep, then tomorrow you should talk with Sam. I mean really talk."

"What's this?" Luka asked looking at the small pill Carter gave him.

"It'll help you sleep. I only have three left and I don't need them any more. Come on…"

Luka was reluctant but eventually took the pill, washing it down with the last of a bottle of water.

The night ended up being rather uneventful. Luka slept soundly on the sofa, Carter in the recliner. Not the best for his back, but doable as he tossed and turned. He saw Sam come in and check on Luka at least twice, but feigned sleep to give her some discretion. The smell of coffee woke the two doctors, though Carter imagined the damn birds outside were louder than any alarm clock.

Carter stood and stretched the kinks from his back as Luka finally stirred. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Ten hours. Haven't slept that long in months."

"Dreams?"

"No, surprisingly."

"Doesn't surprise me. Some of that stuff you've kept bottled up is out in the open. It gets better." Carter walked out of the living room, still adjusting his crooked back. "I'll take a quick shower. You talk to Sam."

Luka waited for the sound of the shower running before finally going into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway watching her do the dishes, her curly strawberry-blonde hair cascading over her fair skinned soft shoulders and down her back. She wasn't wearing a bra under the white tank top - no lines. A pair of green flannel pajama bottoms, too long for her anyway, spilled over her bare feet. He could watch her like that all day and pretend that what worried him the most, what happened in Africa, hadn't happened.

Turning off the water, Sam picked up a dish cloth but paused as she sensed Luka's presence. "Coffee's on the stove."

"Thank you," he managed quietly. "The kids?"

"Outside saying good-bye to Grover." She continued drying the dishes and putting them away, all the while her back turned to him, not wanting to give him reason to walk out. She heard the coffee pour into a tea cup, the sound of the table jolting as he struggled to fit in that end seat, just as her grandfather had done, even though he could have easily taken the empty chair at the other end just a couple feet away. "Toast?" she asked.

"Yes. Burned please."

Finally she turned around to put the bread in the toaster. They caught sight of each other's reserved smile.

"Sam," Luka started, but hesitated when he realized he hadn't thought this through, "There is a lot I have to tell you, but it's going to take time."

"I know," she said as she leaned against the sink.

"And there is only one picture of my wedding. My father has it. I'll see if he'll send it to me."

"No, that's okay -"

" - I want to."

There was a long pause - long enough for Luka to finish his coffee - before he said anything else. "Colleen - she was somehow working with the rebels, the same ones who kidnapped me and Carter. She was… I don't know, but that night was crazy."

"I know." Sam felt like she needed to help him explain, to protect him from the horror.

"Carter told me that you saved his life." She took the other seat, finally, and reached across the table, gently taking his fingers and stroking them.

"I was no hero."

"Same clothes, but clean body," Carter announced as he came around the corner, towel drying his hair, wearing pants but no shirt. "Luka, how about a clean shirt?"

"Sure. I'll get you one."

With the towel finally away from his face, Carter realized he had interrupted the very conversation he had been encouraging Luka to have with Sam. "Oh, sorry Sam."

"That's okay. He's talking a little. It's something."

"Yeah."

Just as Luka handed a shirt to Carter and he started to put it on, a scream came from outside, a scream which obviously belonged to Alex.

Sam was first outside, nearly taking the screen door off the hinges as she lunged for it. Luka wasn't far behind, and then Carter. She went right to the boulder behind the garage where the kids had spent a lot of their time. There she found Alex pasted up against the side of the rock, a look of shock on his face. Amanda was a few feet in front of him beating on the ground with a shovel Sam had left back there the day before when she was transplanting daffodil bulbs.

Amanda was full of rage as she slammed the shovel to the earth over and over, only when Sam and Luka got close enough to see, they were shocked to see her beating to death the groundhog she had practically adopted.

"Amanda…" Sam tried to get her attention. "Amanda, _stop_." But she didn't. It was overkill. "Alex?" Sam looked for answers.

"Grover was acting funny, and when I came down off the boulder to check on him he snarled and came at me. He had his mouth open and tried to bite me."

Luka finally stepped in front of her and took Amanda by the shoulders, forcing her to stop. Her breathing was labored, her body trembling slightly, but her grip on the shovel was resolute. Luka pried the fingers of one hand from the handle before she relented and let him have it. Then after giving him a stern look, one which showed no sorrow, she tore herself from his hands and ran into Carter's arms.

"Amanda kept him from getting me. She really did," Alex pleaded as though protecting her from criminal proceedings.

"I know," Sam said, stroking his hair. "He didn't bite you?"

"Got the rubber on my sneaker, but not me," he said showing her the teeth marks on the thick rubber sole.

"Go inside and get things ready to go," Luka said. "I'll find a safe place to bury him."

While Sam finished packing their suitcases, Carter took the kids into the bathroom and made sure they washed up. "You two okay?" he asked them. Alex nodded, but Amanda remained chillingly calm. "Alex, why don't you go help your mom pack up the car." Carter suspected that she was awfully good at putting on a face, and confirmed the suspicion when Amanda took advantage of being alone with him in the bathroom and wrapped her arms around his waist, the tears finally allowed to escape.

He'd never heard a ring like that. One long and two short. He dried Amanda's tears and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Go get your backpack and your vest and get to the car, okay?" Stepping into the living room he met Sam running to answer the old black rotary phone.

"Hello… who?….. No, nobody…" She smacked the palm of her hand on her forehead. "Which way? How long? Okay, thanks Uncle George."

Sam ran out the door where she met up with Luka who was on his way in to wash his hands. "George called," she said as she followed him into the kitchen. "He was working in the barn when a car pulled up with three men. Luka, they're looking for us. Said they were colleagues. George sent them around the back way just in case we didn't want to be bothered."

"How long until they get here?"

"George said at least twenty minutes. This is the time when my Aunt always goes to her card party though. He said he'd call her and tell her to take her time on the one-way bridge over the river. Might give us ten more minutes."

Luka finished hastily washing up before reaching for something behind the door. He headed outside, shotgun in hand, yelling instructions at Sam. "Call George back. Tell him to call your Oscar friend. Maybe he can finally be your knight in shining armor," he mumbled to her as he loaded the gun. "Have him tell Oscar that there are squatters on your land shooting beavers and scaring the children. He's in Edwards which means he'll come the back way, right?" Sam nodded. "Good, perfect."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Carter busied the children as they got in the SUV, then rejoined the other two. "What are you going to do with that?" he asked pointing to the gun.

"Going hunting."

"Okay, now is a good time to explain that 'sharp shooter' comment." Carter wasn't shy to pry at this point.

"My wife and children were killed at the beginning of the siege in Vukovar during a mortar attack on our building. They were waiting for me after the burial."

"Who?" Sam asked.

Luka snapped the barrel of the gun back in place and leaned down to tie his shoes, not really hearing Sam. He was focused elsewhere. "I couldn't face going to the hospital, saving others when I couldn't save the ones I loved. So I trained for the next few months with the militia as a sharpshooter. It gave me something to do and I was good at it."

"You were a sharpshooter," Carter seemed to need confirming.

"I _trained_ as a sharpshooter." Luka was back on his feet and heading down the driveway, calling back over his shoulder. "Call him, Sam. _Go_." He took off with as much speed as he could gather and disappeared at the base of driveway rounding the corner onto Skate Creek Road.

Sam ran back into the house and picked up the phone, glad that the party line was free. "Dammit," she cursed as she hung up and tried again.

"What's wrong?" Carter asked as he came in to grab his few things he had brought with him.

"He's not answering the phone. He's probably still in the barn."

"Maybe you should drive down there?"

"No. I'm not leaving Luka." Her eyes darted back and forth as she searched for a way to get Uncle George's attention, then ran outside to the garage. "_Alex_," she yelled. "_Come on, I need your help._"

The kids exited the SUV and followed Sam into the garage and up the back staircase.

"See this rope?" she asked, holding an old rope out to them with a knot on the end. "I want you to _haul ass_ on this. Ring that bell so the whole state can hear us, okay?"

The first two pulls got the momentum going, but by the third it rang out gloriously. A smile on her face and Sam and Carter were back at the house waiting for the phone to ring. It didn't take long for George to call up to the house.

Luka gave himself a minute to catch his breath and let his nerves settle before crouching down in front of a log and resting the barrel of the shotgun on top. He was as far from the dam as he could get without losing sight of it. He stretched his long legs out in back of him, laying on his belly, propped by his elbows, his left eye closed, his right looking down the site of the gun squarely at his target. Twice he had to back his face away from its pose to grab a breath and wipe the sweat from his brow, finally taking a very deep breath with his eyes closed to focus his mind. Going back to his training in the bombed out buildings and farm houses taken over by the militia, he was able to zone in on his purpose and steadily aim his gun at the 'kill'……

They were in the SUV at the bottom of the driveway when they heard the explosion. The kids jerked their heads in the direction of the sound up the camp road as it vibrated the vehicle. Carter nearly jumped out of his skin, then opened the door and started heading up the road on foot himself.

"Carter," Sam yelled, "It's okay. See? Here comes Luka."

"What the hell was that?" he yelled at Luka as soon as he was close enough to hear him.

"Dynamite." Luka ran back to the SUV, gun in hand. "Main road should be cut off now for anyone coming up the back way."

"What?" Carter was exasperated. "You have dynamite?"

"No. George had dynamite stuffed in the beaver dam. I just took a shot at it."

Carter nearly swallowed a tongue with that one. "You mean the dam at the pond? The spillway…?" Images of him cramming the stick into it the day before seared through his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask," Luka answered with his trademark mischievous grin. "Now go. Get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Alex said as he unbuckled and hopped out his door.

"What if something happens to you? Mom said that after this vacation we'd be a family."

"I'm sorry, Luka," Sam admitted slightly mortified of her son's admission of her secret wish. "I didn't think it would hurt… I mean…"

"Why can't _he_ stay?" Alex pointed at Carter, a man he knew, but in his eyes was expendable.

"If he stays, I stay," Amanda chimed in also exiting the SUV.

Carter didn't mind Amanda snuggling up to him, even if it was for dramatic effect at Luka's expense. "My rental car is staying. That's the safest decoy I can think of."

Luka leaned against the car, his hands on the hood as he contemplated his choices. With time running out he finally opened the door and got in. "To hell with them. Let's go."

Just over the rumble bridge they shared the road with a slew of four wheelers and off road vehicles going in the opposite direction. "Looks like the whole town," Sam remarked.

They made a quick stop at George's to unload the gun and call the Carter Foundation pilots. Carter talked with them, but found that they were halfway back to Chicago having been told by three men claiming to be FAA officials who flew into the same airport that morning that their manifests for the past six months were currently under investigation and that they had to be back in Chicago ASAP. With no way to contact their boss, they had to leave.

"Off you go, chickadee," George gave Sam with a wink as they got back in the SUV. "Drive safe and don't you worry about those men. I sent your cousins and their huntin' club buddies down to back Oscar up. I bet by now their four-wheelers ain't the only thing fueled by moonshine."

"Where are we going?" Alex asked, his youth unable to handle the suspense of the unknown.

"We're going someplace beautiful and warm," Carter explained as he drove down Route three, east towards Tupper Lake and then eventually through Lake Placid and towards Glens Falls on the eastern seaboard. It was just the beginning. "We're going to my friend's house. I think you'll like it there."

"Will there be other people?" he asked.

"Mm hmm. We tried hiding where nobody lives. Now we're going to go blend in with lots and lots of people and make the bad men take their turn at hiding."

Carter and Sam did all of the driving while Luka fell back into a much needed sleep still feeling residual effects of the sleeping pill and excitement. The kids enjoyed the drive around Washington DC and marveled at the docked ships at Norfolk. The Dismal Swamp tickled a funny bone or two as did all the billboards that lined the highway leading up to the huge three mile long causeway bridge that took them away from the mainland. Carter turned off the A/C as soon as they got to the other side and opened the windows. The sea air was refreshing.

The two lane Highway-12 made twists and turns as it wound its way between the sound and shore through quaint little communities passing Southern Shores and Duck. Carter pulled out a piece of paper and slowed down when he saw the blue water tower rising from the sea oats-covered dunes on his left. A right turn into an obviously well-to-do subdivision and Carter finally pulled into a house with a marker labeled "_E067 - Candlewyck_" out front. It was after midnight. Shaking Luka and Sam awake, they got out of the SUV and stood for a moment as the song of the surf from over the dunes welcomed them. It almost seemed as though with every crash of a wave reaching shore, a breeze conveniently kicked in and tugged them closer to the water. They walked around the house and over the private boardwalk leading to a staircase that would take them over the protective dunes down to the beach.

"Not now," Sam said to the kids, putting a hand on each kid's shoulder. "We'll check out the beach in the morning." The moon was bright and illuminated the pristine shoreline. It was so very calming.

"What is this place?" Amanda asked.

Carter looked at the paper again. "It's called Corolla."

"Hey," a voice called, "up here."

Turning around to look up at the magnificent house sporting wrap-around balconies on the top two of three levels, Carter smiled.

"Never thought you'd get here."

* * *

_**Have you ever watched a crab on the shore crawling backward in search of the Atlantic ocean, and missing? That's the way the mind of man operates.** -H. L. Mencken 1880-1956, American Editor, Author, Critic, Humorist  
**

* * *

**_


	18. Chapter 18 Penny for Your Thoughts

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Eighteen**

Turning around to look up at the magnificent house sporting wrap-around balconies on the top two of three levels, Carter smiled.

"Never thought you'd get here."

His smile was broad. Unable to contain the genetically gifted charisma courtesy of Chicago blue blood and mid-western prep schools, Carter nodded and waved politely, though he was anxious to see his friend again after all these years.

"Hey lady," Alex popped off, "do you have a pool too?"

"_Alex!_" Once again, Sam had to reel in her innocently uncouth, if not over eager, son in order to save face. "I told you, in the morning," she whispered in his ear while smiling up at her hostess-to-be.

"Come on in," she yelled down over the roar of the crashing surf. "Front door is open."

Making their way back down the boardwalk and around the front of the house, the group headed up a staircase that resembled those of the prosperous southern plantations of the 1700's: narrow at the bottom fanning into wide grandeur at the top.

"I've never been to a place like this," Alex said to Amanda as they led the other three adults into the house. "We usually stay in hotels with numbers in their names."

"It's not a hotel, dummy," Amanda chided. "I think it's a real house."

"I know that." He wasn't sure, but Alex wasn't about to let Amanda think that.

The entryway had large mirrors on each of the two side walls, an antique console table and small bench. A staircase led to the lowest level, another to the top two, the ceramic tiled floors all beautifully framed by golden oak woodwork.

"You two kids go all the way downstairs," the hostess told them, "and you can pick any of the three bedrooms. Personally," she hinted to Alex, "I'd go for the one with the foosball table."

Alex and Amanda shared a playful grin before charging down the stairs.

"The second level up here has three more bedrooms, two that are master suites," she said to Sam. "Please help yourself."

"You sure?" Sam asked feeling very self conscious about taking over this stranger's home.

"My bedroom is all the way up top. Really, there's plenty of room. I rarely get company."

Luka followed Sam as she walked onto the second level and stood frozen in the middle where a small library, game area and wet bar led out to the first balcony they had seen from the outside. Like shooting craps, she stepped into the nearest bedroom to the left and marveled at the gorgeous king sized bed with plush bedding and huge bathroom almost completely dressed in marble.

"I'll take whatever bedroom Carter doesn't," Luka meekly said as he backed away from Sam and started to leave.

"_No_." She barely got to him in time to grab his elbow. "Luka, please. Just…" It was her eyes that did the pleading. "Can't we just _try_ to get back to… ya know…?"

His body language couldn't have been more vague as he left her question unanswered. "I'll go check on Alex."

Carter didn't feel like playing 'Pick Your Bedroom' and went all the way up to the top level. The bank of windows spanning the entire east wall of the open area gave way to a magnificent view of the small dunes covered by waving sea oats that almost hid the crashing surf of the Atlantic Ocean. The full moon cast what almost looked like an artificial light on the water that, had this been a movie of Christ, could have been used as a path from one end to the other. With the exception of the master suite hidden on the side of the staircase, the entire third level was open - the living room, dining room and kitchen, the high ceilings and panoramic views of the ocean giving Carter the feeling that whatever happened in that one spot, was infinite.

"It's not really mine," she said, "completely at least."

"It's still amazing."

"Coming from a Carter, I'll take that as a compliment."

He felt oddly uncomfortable even though they had been sharing phone calls lately. But this wasn't his home. It was hers. It was hers and…

"Hey lady," Alex asked as he bound up the steps into the huge open space, "is that a hot tub outside on the second floor?"

"It sure is, and how about you call me Anna."

"Alex, your mother wants you downstairs," Luka said as he himself reached the top floor as well. "It's time to get to bed."

"_Ohhh!_"

"It's late," he reminded the boy. "Now get going. There's plenty to discover tomorrow."

"It's already tomorrow," Alex grumbled as he slumped his way down to his bedroom.

Anna smiled and tried to ease Luka's discomfort. "He's sweet."

"Hmm," he answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Hi Luka," she finally said holding her hand out, "I'm Anna DelAmico. John's told me a lot about you."

Luka returned the handshake. "I want to thank you for opening your home up to us. Under the circumstances it's more than generous."

"Not a problem. Glad I could help."

With a bashful nod, and feeling as though he had intruded on a conversation, Luka smiled a polite 'thank you' and started back to the staircase. "I think I'll leave you two and help Sam with the kids. Good night."

"It's not Rosher?" Carter asked once Luka had disappeared around the first landing.

"What?"

"Your last name."

"No. I'm giving everything back to him I possibly can, name included."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, a little hurt might do Max good. Maybe it'll make him grow up. God knows, I tried."

Carter definitely felt awkward after that. "Sorry. I…"

"It's okay. Just waiting for the papers to get through the courts. It's all but over."

"Still see him?"

"Once in a while. He's been staying with a friend down in Rodanthe. Was supposed to move into a house in Nagshead - some dump between the roads - this week."

"Don't see him at work?"

"He's not practicing," she answered evasively. "I share the house and job at the clinic with two other doctor couples through the year. We rotate. I've been kind of floating around lately doing some sub work wherever my license to practice will take me. I'm done here pretty soon."

"Then what?"

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "I hate to leave. It's peaceful. But I can't afford to find a place of my own, at least not on the Outer Banks. Max kind of drained our savings and real estate here is well into the seven figures."

Carter watched as Anna walked around the great-room and turned out all the lights. "How are you?" he asked quite personally. As she paused in front of the open sliding door, Carter marveled at the moonlight that shone through her floor length white cover-up, her long blond hair twisting in the breeze.

"I'm good," she answered with her back to him shutting the door. "Really. So when are you going to tell me about your adventures with foreign relief work? All you told me about was the camp in Uganda and that little girl's father."

The magical feeling the house had given him suddenly evaporated. "I think I'll get to bed too," he said avoiding her question. "Thank you, again."

* * *

It always amazed Carter that these vacation homes were decked out in thin white curtains as though getting up with the sun was something one looked forward to doing while away from the stresses of work. Even the pillow over his head couldn't keep out the bright morning light.

"Hey, sleepy head." Anna knocked on the door first before opening it a crack. "Luka tells me that you've been wearing the same clothes since leaving Chicago."

"_Mrfhrmf_."

"I'll take that as a yes," she giggled. She gave him his privacy and stood to the side of the cracked open door, but the mirror over the bureau gave her an unhindered view of Carter under the covers, pillow held tightly over his face. "I'll leave some of Max's clothes here on the chair outside the door. Maybe you can find a store today." She smiled as he continued to gruff and moan. "Nurses always had a hard time waking you up in the on-call room. Here I thought it was just laziness."

As Carter sat up and threw the pillow jokingly at the door, Anna got a peek at the scars he sported on his chest, and surprised herself at her own amusement of knowing he was sans clothing under the covers. "I have to get to work. I only have appointments 'til three, then I'll be home. Okay?"

"_Mrfhrmf_." He'd found the other pillow.

"Make yourself at home, Grumpy."

Sam waved from the kitchen window over the sink as Anna left for work. The children had woken up bright and early, despite their late night, and were eating breakfast at the raised counter. Already in their bathing suits, it seemed their day was set with plans down at the beach.

"Anna said that there are all kinds of beach toys and boogie boards down in the carport under the fish cleaning table," Sam said as she finished cleaning the kitchen. "Just one rule - no going down to the beach without a grown-up."

"Cool!" Alex exclaimed. "Boogie boards."

"I can show you how to use them." Luka came up the stairs in his bathing trunks and a t-shirt. "Or maybe you two can show me."

"Sure." Alex was beaming. "Can we go now?"

"Half hour," Sam stalled him, "let your breakfast get a head start before you throw yourself into the waves. And I want another blood sugar before you go out."

"How about you?" Luka sat on the tall bar stool next to Amanda. "What do you want to do today? Interested in boogie boards?"

Amanda stared coldly into Luka's face, then took her bowl of cereal to the sink before going back downstairs by herself.

"Give her time," Alex said wisely, "she has a lot to figure out." He gave Luka a manly pat on the back. "I'm gonna check out those things in the carport."

Luka sighed and hung his head.

"Bagel or toast?"

"Huh?"

"Bagel or toast?" Sam repeated, but Luka remained in his own world. "Glad I packed the suits. Thought they'd be used for fishing in the river. Never dreamed we'd be in a place like this." She didn't know what to say and was tired of giving him openings to talk. It was almost surreal - being in a grand beach home, having to walk delicately around fractured feelings of children, and a lover who was struggling inside himself, all while wondering where she herself belonged.

* * *

By late afternoon the peak heat of the day had passed and everyone enjoyed the low tide at the beach. Anna came home to the empty house and stood on the balcony watching her houseguests down on the beach in front of her. Luka and Alex played with the boogie boards in the surf, then found the fun of the sandbar the low tide had revealed. Amanda sat in the large beach chair by herself watching the two in the water while Carter walked the surf line in rolled up pants and a golf shirt. Anna shed her lab coat and took the boardwalk to the beach, finding Sam at the top of the staircase overlooking the action below.

"Nothing to do and too much time to do it in?" Anna asked as she took a seat next to Sam.

"Something like that."

"How come you're not down there with your kids and your _very_ good looking guy?"

"Let's see… Alex is mildly pissed at me for ruining our vacation. Luka is, well, I don't know what's going on in his head and God forbid he tells me. And I'm _not_ Amanda's mother - can't tell her what to do, she's made that clear. I'm also 'the other woman' to her, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm sleeping with her mother's last boyfriend before she was killed."

"Ooh," Anna winced, "sounds like a mature kid."

Sam nodded and squinted as she looked back out on the beach. "She's had a lot to deal with."

"What about you?" Anna asked. "From what I know, you've had a lot to deal with lately playing Mission Impossible with these guys."

Sam didn't know Anna well enough to want to go there with her, so she didn't answer and just played with the hem of her shirt as she stared down at her feet roasting in the hot sun.

"My last appointment tomorrow is at 2 o'clock," Anna mentioned. "How about the two of us take the kids down to Kitty Hawk? We can check out the Wright Brothers museum, Kitty Hawk Kites and maybe let them run amok at Jockey's Ridge."

"Jockies? As in horses?"

"No," Anna smiled, "as in _huge_ sand dunes."

"_That_ Alex would love." Even Sam liked the idea of getting away. "And maybe it'll give the guys a chance to be alone."

Anna was glad that Sam had agreed to her plan. She had been to these tourist areas every time a friend or relative swung by, but she had never taken kids. "You'd think Carter would at least take his shirt off in this heat," she thought out loud as she shielded her eyes from the sun and watched him stroll in and out of the surf.

"He probably just wants to protect his scars from the sun."

"That happened years ago," Anna said. "Sunscreen should be enough."

"Not those," Sam said as though Anna knew. "The newer ones." Deciding to dive into the deep end, Sam made her way down the staircase and over to Amanda.

"Don't you want to play in the water?"

Amanda shook her head, her long red curly hair swishing across the back of her green one-piece bathing suit nearly covered by the tan vest she wore everywhere.

"There's another one of those boards up at the house. I'll go get it for you."

She shook her head again.

"Want me to walk out to the sand bar with you? They look like they're having a lot of fun."

Amanda pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them remaining speechless.

Sam reached over and played with the girl's hair, pulling it to the side off her shoulder. "Honey, I know you're a long way from home, but maybe if -"

" - When's my dad getting here?"

Sam sat in the sand in front of Amanda and looked up at her face as the ten year old tried to hide it in her knees. "There's a lot we don't know."

"I know my dad, and he would _never_ deviate from the parameter of procedure."

Sam smiled, humoring the girl. "Is that what he told you?"

Without even tilting her head upwards, Amanda moved just her eyes to meet Sam's and seared scorn through them. "I _know_."

"Yikes," Sam mumbled to herself. "Okay, I believe you, and… I don't mean to make light of this."

"Aren't you scared of him? Don't you wonder if he could kill you too?"

"Luka? No… _**no**_, not at all." She felt as though she were watching a train wreck about to happen and she was the engineer. Time to put on the brakes. "Your shoulders are burning. Why don't you go upstairs to my room and put on one of Luka's big t-shirts."

"Penny for your thoughts."

_That's where I picked up that phrase_, Carter thought. "Is that all they're worth?" he asked as he turned and walked backwards letting Anna lead them blindly in their walk.

"Oh, they're worth a lot more. I've got the phone bill to prove it."

Far enough from the others to feel a sense of privacy, the two stopped and faced the ocean side by side.

"I get the feeling that five people have walked into my life carrying way too much baggage," she promptly surmised.

"Luka and Sam have a good thing. It's just on hold for the moment. Alex is… well, he's something else," he laughed, "but Luka needs to take care of some issues that are hurting Sam."

"Really? Like what?"

Carter hung his head, watching the bubbles of the surf as they reached his ankles, then retreated back to the sea. He liked the way the under-toe pulled his feet down into the sand and buried his toes. "Like some disturbing things that happened in Africa."

"Like what?" she dug around.

"Like…" Carter shook his head as though losing his train of thought. "You should go to our camp in Uganda. Meet Toomay and the staff. They're all great. Remember Maggie Doyle?" She nodded as he went on. "She's running the clinic. Toomay's kids are there, and…" Sean… he almost said Sean. "…and, well the people there make it all worth it. You can do so much with so little and make a _huge_ difference, and in the end you're the one who comes out feeling as though the _refugees_ have done something miraculous for you. It's really beautiful," he said, overworking the convincing factor.

"Like what?" she asked again, non pulsed by his diversionary tactic.

He knew. "Like…" he raised his head into the wind and seemed to be searching for something with his eyes - out to sea, up the coast, then down. "…like he…" Carter lowered his voice with his eyes, "… like he saved my life for a second time but killed Amanda's mother in the process."

That's as far as he wanted to go on that topic. She got it, wasn't going to root around for more, and instead reached over and gently took his hand in hers. If she was worried about being too forward with him, the warm squeeze he gave her hand certainly reassured her.

"You don't have to tell me," she said quietly, not sure he heard her over the thud of the wave breaking in front of them.

"I will, sometime. I think I owe it to Luka to get some things cleared up with him first before I go telling people about what happened."

"Sam and I are taking the kids out tomorrow afternoon," she said. "Maybe then…"

"Yeah. Maybe." He still held onto her hand and gently stroked her thumb with his. "Amanda has been asking about her father," he said, changing the subject. "We haven't heard anything. I'm beginning to doubt that he got out alive."

"She's tough."

"Too tough. She can hold a grudge," he laughed, "that's for sure. But she just seems… empty."

"Kids need traditions. They need to have hopes realized in order for them to build optimism. That little girl's hopes have been crushed and the only traditions have been going from Grandma's to whatever safe house in the world is unoccupied so she can see her daddy." Letting go of Carter's hand, Anna bent down and scooped up a few water-smoothed purple and white seashells from the surf. "Now she's running away from people who want to kill her and living with the man who killed her mother. She needs photo albums and videos of holidays with her parents, to build memories of happy times, not an occasional e-mail from her father from an undisclosed location."

Carter nodded.

"Didn't you have that, John? Lots of pictures from family and school events?"

"Gamma had a social secretary to take care of those things. And after my brother died they stopped taking pictures."

"That's not true," she countered. "I seem to remember a lovely picture of you sitting on a pretty horse."

"Oh, that one," he laughed. "Ah, Marigold. That was a portrait. I had to sit for that."

"Sit?"

"Yeah, sit. You know - a painter and all that."

"Ooh," she mocked with an uppity voice, "smell me!"

Carter enjoyed the banter and put his arm around her shoulder drawing her in to plant a small kiss on her temple.

"Come on," she said, "I got steaks on the way home. Keep me company while I get dinner going."

"You don't want me to help?"

"No. I've seen you cook. What's worse is I've had your coffee."

"Good to see him find someone," Sam said as she came up behind Luka knee deep in the surf as he watched Alex play around on the sandbar. "They have a history?"

"Don't know. I don't remember him ever mentioning Anna." Luka let a few waves break around their legs before walking back to dry sand stealing glances at Carter and Anna strolling towards the staircase before he let himself open up to Sam. "I don't know how to fix this," he confessed as he let his head fall back and take in the receding late day sunshine. "I have done so many things that -"

" -I can wait. I'll wait for you."

"You shouldn't have to. There's a lot of fixing to do," he said under his breath but loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Thinking about Amanda?"

He nodded. It felt good to talk to Sam again. She knew his thoughts. "I don't know what she needs… what to do…"

"Little girls need to feel special. She's not feeling very special right now. She needs to be loved - wanted to be loved, and I'm not sure what we can do to give that to her."

"Hey Mom!" Alex dragged his legs through the water as fast as he could, the boogie board trailing behind on a rope. "Come on," he shouted, "it's _way_ cool."

Reluctantly, Sam let Alex pull her into the water but hesitated long enough to gently touch Luka's hand and at the same time touch his eyes with hers.

Luka was left alone on shore waiting for the sun to dry his legs before the sand could get a chance to glue itself to his skin and spied the little girl wearing an oversized t-shirt at the top of the stairs being picked up high in the air by Carter, Anna laughing loudly by their side. He couldn't keep from staring at the miniature version of Colleen.

"Put me down," Amanda shouted between giggles.

"Now _that's_ what I like to hear," Carter said giving her a final tickle with his fingers as he lowered her back to the planks of wood. "Tomorrow Sam and Anna are going to take you two kids on an adventure."

"Moving again?"

"No, cutie," Anna jumped in, "I'm going to take you and Alex to some fun places. See where the first flight was, climb a sand dune, watch crazy people hang glide..."

"_Cool_!" She'd certainly picked that up from Alex.

"How about we get you a camera so you can take pictures," Carter said trying out Anna's idea.

"I have my mom's camera, and I know how to use it."

"I bet you do. You know, Amanda," Carter said calmly as got down on one knee and looked her in the eye, "um… if you want to talk about anything like your mom and dad…"

Amanda pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Or Grover…" Carter stalled to measure her reaction which only came in increments of stonewalling. "Well, I'd be glad to be your friend."

"Me too," said Anna.

"Did you know," the girl whispered loudly switching her attention to Anna, obviously not wanting to talk about Grover, "that he needs a wife?"

"No," Anna said acting curiously surprised, "I had no idea. Are you interested?"

With a refreshing blush, Amanda giggled her way down the stairs where she found Luka waiting for her.

"It's good to see you happy," he said as her face did a 180 and slid downwards. "Where did you get that?" he asked, pointing to the Bulls shirt she was wearing, the ever present vest bulging out underneath. Luka struggled to maintain a positive non-reactive demeanor.

"Sam told me to get a shirt from her stuff."

"That's okay." It was obvious that him staring at her made Amanda uncomfortable. "I just remember your mother wearing it."

"She did?"

"Yep. And you are just as pretty in it as she was." Luka stopped, thinking she would bolt at any minute, but she didn't - surprisingly. "You can have it if you like."

"Okay."

Sam dragged herself out of the water just in time to see Amanda go back to her spot on the beach chair with her backpack. "She talked to you?" she asked.

"Uh-huh."

"What did she say?"

"She said… _okay_."

Luka didn't see Sam's smile, but felt her reassuring hand on his back. She said _okay_.

_**

* * *

The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows, and the crimes of humanity, all lie in that one word ''Love.'' It is the divine vitality that everywhere produces and restores life.** -Lydia M. Child 1802-1880, American Abolitionist, Writer, Editor

* * *

_

After Sam and Anna had left the house with the kids the next afternoon, Carter searched out Luka, finding him on the top deck sitting in a chair.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching the water. It's… soothing," he said with a wave of the hand.

"How very feminine of you."

"I know," he laughed. "Don't tell Amanda. I have an image to protect."

Turning his back to the water, Carter leaned against the railing and faced Luka. "I was wondering if you would mind if I told Anna about what happened."

"About Colleen?"

Carter nodded. "Maybe the rest."

"No. It's okay." Luka leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at the floor. "I hope that it gives you some sort of peace."

"I don't know what I'm looking for. Not even sure I can tell her."

"I know," Luka agreed. "Look, John, I'm sorry about the things I've said -"

" -No, Luka, don't go there."

"Please," he said pointedly with his hand out silently asking for the chance to speak. "I should have listened to you. I should have figured it out for myself," he said as he thought about that night Colleen and Carter had returned from the trip over the border - the night she wore that shirt. "I let my emotions, maybe my lust get in the way of rational thought."

"Matters of the heart," Carter said as he turned around and gave his attention to the ocean, "always dictate the direction of the mind."

"Who said that?"

"Me."

"How feminine of you."

They hadn't shared a laugh in a long time. It felt good.

"And I'm sorry I didn't come to you about the drug craving thing. I should have told you about going to the meetings in Gulu. Should have been up front about all that."

"I didn't exactly give you good reason to trust me."

"Well, Colleen certainly deserves a share of the blame. She was a good manipulator."

"Did you really think I was going to shoot you?" Luka finally asked, surprising him.

Carter turned back around, pulled a chair up directly across from Luka and sat down. "Not at first. I thought you were going to… you know… Jules' head was right there… and…" The words were hard to come by, but at least Luka could understand. "But, yeah, when you pointed the gun at me… in my direction… I thought I was the only one there. It was only logical that…" Carter cleared his throat of the nerves that had congregated.

"I remember the look in your eyes," Luka added. "I was focused on her and her gun, but I still looked at you. I knew what you were thinking." That look of sheer terror had haunted Luka. "I just hoped that you could trust me not to shoot you."

"I'm sorry…" Both sat quietly for the next several minutes each occasionally stealing looks at the other. "Hell, if I had known you were a sharp shooter…"

Before Luka had a chance to see Carter's face, he took it the wrong way and cringed inside. But Carter's signature smile and playful eyebrows pulled him back. "There's a skill I never thought I'd use."

"I'm here because of you," Carter said very subdued as he reached over and put his hand on top of Luka's. "It sounds corny, but thank you anyway."

Luka let him say it. He so wanted to back Carter up and reach for more self blame, but he let it go. He just let it go.

"Listen," Carter said, leaning back to get his eyes out of the sun, "Sam tells me that you and Amanda had a little talk yesterday."

"Sam talk to you much?"

"She has to talk to someone."

Luka nodded in obvious agreement. "Thank you for being there for her."

"It should be you."

"I know." Luka reached down and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer he had been nursing. "Amanda is so unmoved by things. Her emotions are kind of flat -"

"I know some people who would say that you've been the same way lately."

"Fair enough," he conceded as he finished off the bottle. "Mbuto was the same way."

"The difference being that Amanda at least grew up with love. Anna said that kids need tradition, a keepsake of memories and Amanda hasn't had much of that."

"Those women," Luka chuckled. "Sam said that Amanda needs to feel special."

"And that's what I wanted to talk about." Carter smacked Luka on his knee. "Come on. Get up. I've got an idea.

Luka and Carter spent the rest of the afternoon taking turns going out and running errands. Gift shops, rental stores, groceries… back and forth. When he heard the SUV pull in the driveway for the third time Carter nearly fell down the stairs getting to the front door to meet Luka. Only it wasn't Luka on the other side.

"So now she's giving my clothes away too?" he snarled. "What's the matter Carter? Daddy cut your inheritance to a paltry hundred million?"

Carter tried to close the door on the man but his arm countered, bracing the door open.

"Look, Max, you need to leave."

"No, see, this is _my_ house."

"Not any more. Does Anna know you're here?"

"What, are you her keeper?"

Carter didn't want any part of this, but looking at the guy he could tell that he wasn't the same man that he had met in Chicago years earlier. "Why are you here?"

"None of your damn business. _Now get the fuck out of my way_."

As Max used his hands to pushed both the door open and Carter backwards, a strong hand came from behind and threw the unwelcome visitor back out onto the porch firmly on his ass.

"Friend of yours?" Luka asked Carter.

"Hardly. Anna's ex."

"Yeah? Some pimp mobile." As the two watched Max scramble to his tricked out Escalade, Luka picked up what packages he had dropped and went into the house, the door locked securely behind them.

"I had to drive down into Goose to get the clothes," he said giving Carter one of the bags.

"Duck."

"I thought we were having hot dogs."

"No," Carter laughed, "the town is called Duck, not Goose."

"Details, details. Storm is headed our way. Have you seen the sky over the water?"

"Yep," Carter answered, "even more reason to do this. The kids will be disappointed if they can't go sand crabbing on the beach after dark. This should take their mind off it. Come on," he said with a hint of mischief in his voice, "let's get the show on the road."

Gusts of wind slapped against the car doors as the two women and kids returned from their outing. The storm gave way to a premature dusk, darkening the house that sat with no lights on.

"Aren't Luka and Dr. Carter here?" Alex asked, his curiosity driving his legs quickly up the stairs.

"Car is here," Sam remarked.

As soon as they were in the door, they saw the candles lining each side of the staircase inviting them up to the top level where, with all but a couple kitchen lights dimmed, the entire area was illuminated by candles of all sizes surrounded by an assortment of flowers and sea shells. Soft jazz music played in the background and two very handsome, well dressed gentlemen stood by the dining room table topped with fine china, silver, linens and rose petals.

"This is unbelievable," Anna said as she covered her mouth in awe. "How did you do this?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "We tapped into our feminine side."

"Sorry," Luka said to Sam as she walked over to look at the table, "couldn't find tuxedos."

The two men were dressed in fine white button down silk shirts and camel colored slacks. Their new tans made the white pop out but it was their smiles that the women noticed the most.

"This is mushy," Alex complained.

"No, Alex," Luka corrected him, "this is for all of us. There is a place set for everyone. We even cooked dinner."

"Uh-oh," Anna said out loud.

"Even I can cook hot dogs on the grill." Carter pulled something from a chair. "And open a bag of chips."

"Where do I sit?" Amanda asked meekly.

Carter poked his elbow out and looped her hand through it escorting her to the head of the table. "This is your seat. A fine seat for a fine lady."

Amanda took in the sight of the table and then the whole room, rotating her head from one spot to the next, the crack of thunder not even phasing her. "And I know what this is," she said with a big smile as she spotted something next to her water glass. Carter had put it there just for her. "_Anything_ I want?"

"Anything," he said.

She picked up the small silver bell and gave it a good ring, then took Carter by the hand and led him to the center of the living room floor. Leaving him momentarily, she giddily skipped over to Anna and, taking her hand, led her to the same spot. "Okay, now you two can have a dance."

They felt as though they had been paired up at the prom and all eyes were on them, but it was good to have an excuse to put their arms around each other, touch hands, the small of her back, his shoulder, and feel the warmth between them grow.

"Oh, brother," Alex moaned.

Amanda shot him a look. "You're such a baby."

Luka stood in the background watching the dance and enjoying the two kids being kids again. And as Sam shuffled to his side and put her arms around his waist, he didn't push her away.

The rain came down all at once, pounding the deck outside the bank of windows and smacking the house as the howling wind pushed the moisture sideways. As the song came to an end, Amanda rang the bell again and giggled at her attempt to play matchmaker. But before Carter and Anna could give her her wish, a huge clap of thunder erupted at the same time that a bright flash of lightening drew their attention to the windows and the outline of a man standing at the sliding door, his raised hand holding something out of view.


	19. Chapter 19 Altered Welcome Wagon

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Nineteen**

A huge clap of thunder erupted simultaneously with a bright flash of lightening drawing their attention to the windows and the outline of a man standing at the sliding door, his raised hand holding something out of view. Still smirking at each other, the kids didn't see it, but it was unmistakable to the four adults who stood frozen momentarily as they processed what they had just seen, the soothing music providing an eerie irony within the confines of the room.

Carter remained still in the middle of the living room floor holding Anna where they had left off in the dance. Luka could feel Sam's grip around his waist tighten slightly, but pushed her away very slowly as he and Carter exchange a vast amount of communication with just their eyes. A nod of the head, eyes shot left or right, then Luka's hand on Carter's shoulder - Carter's on Luka's elbow, and the two were skillfully maneuvering around the house to check on the deck. It was as if they were back in the Congo made to live by signals and touches, forced to remain silent, sometimes blindfolded.

Three sides of the upper floor were almost entirely framed by panoramic windows giving them little opportunity to truly hide. As Luka slid into Anna's bedroom trying to gain access to the deck from her sliding doors, Carter corralled the women and children in the kitchen behind the large counter.

"What's going on, John?" Anna asked as she held Amanda tight to her and covered an ear.

"_Shhh_. Look, does Max have any reason to be sneaking around here?"

"What? _No_," she answered incredulously. "Why would he do that?"

"I wasn't going to tell you, but he came by this afternoon and wasn't very happy to see me."

"I'm sure he wasn't. You don't think that…"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "We have a hell of a lot more to worry about if it _isn't _him."

"Why would he be sneaking around," Anna whispered loudly.

"Like I said, he wasn't exactly here on behalf of the Welcome Wagon."

"He still has a key -"

" -And Luka got a little rough with him."

"_What_?"

Another bright flash of lightening and clap of thunder illuminated the man again. Anna flinched as she focused on the place that they had seen the man, and where he still was. "John, I don't think that's Max. Shouldn't I be calling the police?"

"**No**," he said looking straight in her eyes for effect. "Just trust me on this. As soon as you get a chance," Carter said with both hands on Anna's shoulders, "you two get the kids out of here. Go in the opposite direction of that guy. Don't run to Luka and me. Understand?"

Anna nodded, then with a look to Sam, she nodded too.

"_Don't run to Luka and me_," he repeated. Motioning the women to stay put, Carter made his way back to the living room and inched around to the sliding door with his back against the wall.

Luka slowly bumped his way through Anna's darkened room using the edges of the furniture to guide him to the sliding door. The ocean breeze on his face and _tap tap _of the raindrops furiously pounding the deck told him that the glass doors were already opened. Now all he had to do was find the latch for the screen. With the moon hiding behind the storm clouds and lights turned out in the room, Luka's eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness. The last thing he wanted to do was knock something over and ruin the element of surprise, so with arms outstretched and feet sliding in anticipation of possible obstacles, Luka moved towards the door with great care.

His fingers gripped the small handle on the far side of the screen door and as he started to push it sideways he hoped against hope that the rubbing friction of the runners would be drowned out by the rain. Luckily for him another clap of thunder eliminated that fear, and thankfully the sound of Luka walking straight into a two-seater _Nagshead Hammocks _porch swing hanging from the rafters that shaded just that end of the upper deck. Luka felt the burn of the bulky ropes as he quickly grabbed at them before the swing crashed into the deck railing.

Fighting the urge to hold his breath, Luka slowly made his way around the corner finding himself several yards behind the man dressed in black whose body was rigid against the house taking quick opportunities to peek into the living room windows. The rain pounded down on Luka who took advantage of it and slid his feet slowly across the slippery deck. Between the sound of the crashing waves, rain pouring down on the house and occasional thunder, Luka figured he probably could have just as well shouted out to the man and still not be heard, but instead he adopted the same cautious pose and propped his back tightly against the house letting the roof's overhang take some of the assault of the skies from his face.

Luka snapped his eyes shut with the next crash of thunder and found his mind back in the hut of the jungle. All those nights as he watched Carter deal with the beatings, as he fought within himself not to let on to Jules the whereabouts of Joseph and his family, he went over and over the plan he had promised Carter would win them their freedom. Ten times each night, he figured, he would list the steps they would take to grab a guard and shoot him up with the diazepam they had secreted away. It may have been fruitless, too far out to reach for, but it gave them hope and he rehearsed the 'escape' inside his head to the point that fear of retribution, should it fail, was an acceptable by-product. So there on the deck of the third level of Anna's beach house in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, Luka rehearsed the plan again to put himself in a zone, only this time the retribution would be on the women and children. There was no room for failure.

He was now only feet away and marveled at how the guy didn't even know he was there. He waited and after the next round of lightening faded, Luka grabbed the man from behind and struggled to reach for his outstretched arm and the mysterious object in it.

As another crash of thunder rolled over the house, Carter flinched - the vibrations rattling the wine glasses in the cabinet next to him. _What was taking Luka so long_, he wondered. Something bumped against the sliding door and he suddenly realized that Luka had taken the man by surprise. Next it was Luka's face pressed up against the glass as the man tried to restrain him. Without thinking, Carter pushed open the sliding glass door. As he reached for the screen to open it, Luka and the man entangled together in a struggle fell through it directly on top of Carter who was painfully aware of the very beautiful, very hard ceramic tile floor his head was about to make contact with.

The man was strong - very strong, and seemed to know all the right moves. It was apparent that he did this - whatever _this _was - for a living. They fell to the floor with a thud, their arms wildly in motion, legs kicking and pushing at each other. Attempting to get his balance, Luka tried to prop himself on his arm, but the palm of his hand couldn't get a grip on the floor through the puddle that was slowly building to the size of a pond underneath them. It was exhausting, but Luka was not about to stop until he had subdued and disarmed the man. No words were exchanged, no time to think about talking, just grunts and groans. They were both slippery from the rain and had to resort to grabbing at each other's clothes to gain some sort of advantage. It seemed like…

…Only minutes had passed since Luka disappeared into the bedroom and Carter stationed himself next to the windows, but when a fight erupted on the deck and inadvertently made its way into the house via the screen door, Anna and Sam both knew without talking with each other that they were not going to follow Carter's advice. The crash as all three men collided with the floor, then the fierce, determined fight that continued, frightened the women who just couldn't stay put. As lightening flashed upon the multi vehicle pile-up in the living room, Anna took the opportunity to finally throw the light switches that the men had earlier turned off in deference to the candles.

"**_No_**," yelled Amanda as she ran towards the men. "Get _off _him."

The little girl tugged at Luka, then hit him mercilessly over and over. "Get off him," she screeched as her small balled up fists pummeled Luka's back. "_Get off my daddy_."

Luka held the front of the man's jacket in both fists as he sat on top looking down into his face. Amanda's voice was the first they had heard among the ruckus and he heard every word. "Jesus Christ, Bob, why didn't you say something?"

"I was busy trying not to get killed by you two crazy fuck-wits."

Luka's laugh was part amusement, part relief as he pulled Bob to his feet and gave him a huge bear hug. "My God, it's good to see you."

"See?" Amanda said to Sam. "I told you he'd get here." It was hard not to stare at Amanda and Bob in the middle of the room as father and daughter once again found each other.

"Hey, Princess," Bob yelled taking Amanda in his arms and spinning around, "I missed you." There _was _a soft side to Bob, and now it was evident what brought it out in him.

Amanda pasted a big grin across her face and put a small hand on each of Bob's rain soaked cheeks. "I missed you too, Daddy. I just _knew _you'd find me."

"Not to bust up your Jerry Springer reunion," Alex interrupted, "but is Dr. Carter, like, dead?"

All eyes went to the spot on the floor where they had been fighting and where Carter remained on his back, his arms outstretched and motionless.

"John?" Anna went to his side and put her hand on his chest instinctively feeling for a heartbeat, but emotionally wanting to feel his warmth.

"What the…" Luka got back down on the floor next to Carter, checking his neck for a pulse, then holding his head in place. "How long -?"

" -I don't know," Anna answered, short with him. "The lights were out." Shifting into doctor mode, Anna started checking his arms and legs for abnormalities.

"Is that blood?" Alex asked pointing to Carter's white shirt.

"Blood?" Luka's eyes were still refocusing and he squinted to get them better acclimated to the bright lights. "Bob, was that a knife in your hand?"

"No. Night vision scope. My knife is still strapped to my leg," he said raising his pant leg unveiling a very large, most assuredly illegal, hunting knife."

"_Cool_!" Alex couldn't help that one escape.

As Luka pulled up Carter's shirt searching for a source of bleeding, Sam came around to the other side. "Luka, no. Look, it's just candle wax," she said holding up a large red pillar candle that had been extinguished. "You guys knocked over the table when you fell through the screen."

As Carter moaned and struggled to get his eyes open, Luka reached over to Bob and grabbed a small flashlight velcroed to his fancy spy-guy utility belt. "Pupils equal and reactive," he said plying Carter's lids open and violating them with the bright light. Putting the flashlight on the floor, Luka checked Carter's head with both hands. "I don't feel any crepitus."

"Creepy what?" Alex asked.

"Crepitus," Sam answered quietly. "Means crackling or bone fragments."

"John?" Anna put a hand on his shoulder as he began to regain consciousness. "Hey, do you know where you are?"

"Errgh," Carter managed as he slapped Luka's hands off his face and head, "Oh, man…"

"John, just stay still." Luka motioned to Sam to take his place holding Carter's head. "Anna, do you have a medical bag here? Stethoscope, BP cuff, Ophthalmoscope?"

"Sure. In the closet there," she said, pointing behind Alex who was more than willing to jump in the mix.

As Anna did a quick BP, Luka worked to keep Carter's restless arms at bay. "Carter, just let us do this," he said finally reverting to a typical wrist restraint as he gently straddled Carter's hips without actually sitting on them.

"110 over 70," Anna reported taking the stethoscope out of her ears. "John, do you know what happened?"

"For crying out loud," the patient whined, "don't you people have better things to do?"

"Hey, King Tut," Bob bellowed as he bent over Carter's head, "why is it that we're always meeting up in such wacky circumstances?"

The stars Carter had been seeing finally began abating and he squeezed his eyes shut a few times as he focused on the man above him. "Hey," he chuckled, "it's Vivian!"

"_Oh, my God_," Anna let out alarmingly, "he's altered." She was immediately put off by Luka and Bob who joined in Carter's laughter. "Come on, this isn't right. We have to get him to the clinic. Maybe medivac him into Elizabeth City."

"Alright, slow down," Luka said trying to stifle his laughter as he turned on the light on the ophthalmoscope and shone it on his hand while adjusting the magnification, "Vivian sweetheart, I need you to move away so I can get a look in his eyes," he said while, again, laughing.

"_Come on_," Anna implored, exchanging confused looks with Sam.

"Yeah, okay." Luka looked through the scope and guided it to Carter's eyes. "Neck or back pain, Tut?"

"No, but I'll probably be stiff tomorrow."

"Maybe we can get Vivian here to give you a back rub."

"Do you mind?" Anna asked, wanting to take over from the totally not serious Dr. Kovac. She looked over at Sam whose puzzled face still gave no relief.

"_Dancing by the Nile, ladies loved the style," _Luka mumbled as he checked Carter's neck, then looked in his ears with an otoscope.

Carter picked up where Luka left off. "_Rocking for a mile, he ate a crocodile."_

"_King Tut_," they sang together as Bob erupted, unable to withhold the laughter any longer.

"Someone should tell her, you know," Carter said to Luka as he cleared his neck and helped him to sit up against the chair.

"Anna, my name is Bob," he said as he shook her hand. "In the haze of twilight sleep, my mother officially named me Vivian."

It was a dry sense of delight as the three men watched and waited for the inside joke to sink into Anna and Sam who were none too amused. With a good understanding of the payback they would have to endure, they extinguished their laughter, a hand over the mouth, gazing at inanimate objects generally doing the trick.

"Here," Anna said to Carter putting a bag of ice on the back of his head, not very gently, "it appears you're having problems thinking rationally."

"_Owww_. Hey!" Carter grimaced as he took the bag and held it there himself. "I'm an injured man here. How about some sympathy."

"Yeah? I wouldn't push it if I were you, Tut."

Luka and Bob meandered over to where Carter was still parked on the floor.

"Seen anybody?" Bob asked in a hushed voice.

Luka sat down and looked one more time at Carter's bump growing on the back of his head. "Nope. I think we threw them.

"Bob, you going to fill us in?" Carter asked with a hint of seriousness in his voice.

"Later, when small ears aren't standing at attention," he said not wanting to stir the pot any more than it already had been. "So Kovac, were you really worried about the potential massacre that could have ensued with my night vision scope?"

"Considering the size of knife you wear," Luka said as he poured himself a tall glass of wine, "I'm surprised that candle wax was the only thing that was spilled."

"I could have taken you if I wanted," Bob answered with a glib smirk.

"Let's remember the facts, Vivian. Who was pinned to the floor? Not me."

"Ah, but I was capitulating at will." Bob opened one kitchen cupboard after another as though he owned the house. "I knew who you were and had no intention of taking you at full force. Jesus Christ, what doctor _doesn't _have a god damn bottle of scotch in the house?"

"This one," Anna answered holding out a wine glass. "All I have is the wine the guys got today."

Bob took the glass and poured himself a healthy serving of the red wine. "Eech, might as well be apple juice," he complained. "Suppose a cigarette is out of the question."

"In the house, yes. But it stopped raining. Cushions for the deck furniture are under the tarp." Anna wasn't quite sure about this man and was glad he would be giving her a few minutes alone with Carter. "And the sea oats on the dunes are protected. Use the bucket of sand out there for your butt."

_She's a tough one, Bob thought. I can learn to like her, maybe. _

"Well, I think you're wrong," Luka gave Bob as he walked past him towards the sliding door. "You analyze things too much. I could take you any day."

"I'm never wrong," Bob said as he stopped while getting a cigarette out and tapped it down on his wrist. "I don't do wrong. In my line of work, being wrong costs lives."

Luka gave him a playful shove, one which Amanda had seen as she trailed her father. Reaching out she shoved Luka back with a look of defiance etched across her face. "Leave my father alone. You can't hurt him too. He won't let you. He's stronger than you."

"Hey, _hey_," Bob said as he knelt down and looked his daughter in the face, "that's no way to talk to our friends."

"He's not my friend. Not any more," she said with a burning look of contempt at Luka.

"It's alright, Bob." Luka stepped back to give them space. "Let it go."

"Outside, Princess," Bob quietly directed Amanda. "Just you and me. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Patting her on the shoulder, Bob waited until she had stepped out onto the deck before confirming with Luka what he had assumed. "She knows?"

Luka nodded. "That I was the one, but not much more." Bob's sigh and the silence in the room made the situation that much more uncomfortable. "It's okay. Really. She has a right to be angry." Bob hesitated, but Luka's eyes directed him to his precocious ten year old daughter who had found a deck chair the furthest from the doors and was waiting. "Go. Just… it's okay."

"In case anyone has noticed," Alex said taking over the room, "I haven't eaten yet. Not only is my developing brain going to shrink from lack of protein, but the bet I have with Amanda for my night time blood sugar is about to go down the crapper if I don't get some real food into me."  
...

Bob tossed what was left of his glass of wine over the side of the deck, then took one last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out in the bucket of sand. "Do you want to tell me about Luka?" Amanda scooted over on the lounge chair and let her father squeeze in next to her.

"He was wrong," she said defiantly.

"How do you know?"

"Because Mommy died. He was wrong and it cost lives, just like you said."

"Hmm. I'm not always right, Princess. I do my best but I'm not perfect. Luka wasn't wrong. He doesn't like what he did, but there were a lot of factors involved forcing him to make a split second decision."

"Why did it have to be Mommy?"

"Because you mother made a very bad choice to get involved with evil people." Bob stopped to gage her level of understanding and her willingness to learn more. "You know I would never lie to you, right?" He waited for her nod. "Do you want to know more?" She paused but he knew she'd nod again. "Your mother had a gun and was about to shoot Dr. Carter in the head."

"No. She wouldn't do that."

"Yes, she did, Amanda."

"No, she _wouldn't_." She just didn't want to believe.

"Luka saw it," Bob went on knowing that he had gone too far not to give her the whole story, and that what she didn't know she would just fill in the blanks with assumptions and fantasy. "He did it to save Dr. Carter's life. He knew that if he didn't shoot his gun, many more people than just Dr. Carter would get killed. It's called _choosing the lesser of two evils_." Nestling her head in his chest, her tears finally flowed freely. "I think Luka loved your mom and ever since then he has hurt inside. I don't know if you'll ever understand what it's like to hurt someone you love -"

" -I do," she said with a heavy heart. "I do, but I still don't like him."  
...

Anna found Luka sound asleep splayed out on the upholstered chaise lounge chair half his size in Carter's bedroom. They had sent Carter to bed early to chase away the predictable headache that had finally emerged, but with occasional monitoring.

"Hey, Mother Goose," she said whispering while nudging his shoulder, "wake up. Go get some sleep."

"It's okay," he answered groggily, "I don't mind."

"It's a concussion. He doesn't need intensive care."

"Mmm, I know, but still…"

"Still, no need to keep you up all night. I can hang out here too." With no response from Luka except a deep wakening breath and glance out the window, Anna stepped in front of his face. "Do I need to spell it out for you? _I'd _like to be _here_, _Sam _would like you to be with _her_."

Eyes connected, eyebrows raised concurrently, and the Croatian light bulb finally turned on. "Ohh," he said, standing to leave, "_Ohh_, I ah… Okay. Goodnight then." As he got to the door, he turned to remind Anna of the procedure. "He should be woken up every couple of hours and -"

" -I know."

" -Soon, I guess," he said sheepishly as he checked his watch. "Yeah. Right. I'll see you in the morning then." Thoughtful enough to close the door behind him, Luka walked quietly towards his own bedroom but stopped short when he saw the light on under Sam's door. He started to knock but quit, his knuckles just inches from the wood panel as he second guessed himself. It wasn't closed all the way and through the crack he could see the long white linen curtains sensuously flying in the post-storm breeze that she had welcomed through the large sliding doors out to the second tier deck. His eyes closed to picture her standing alongside the flapping curtains, he was startled back by the sound of her voice.

"You stalking me or just studying the paint on the door."

"How did you know it was me?" he asked pushing the door open and taking a few steps inside.

"Feeling, instinct, women's intuition - call it whatever you like, but really it was your big honking feet that gave you away."

Sitting on a white wicker chair, Sam had on a light pink satin robe tied loosely at the waist, one of her oversized t-shirts underneath. She didn't own pajamas or a negligee for that matter. Her standard evening attire was sweats or t-shirts. It never mattered to Luka.

"That new?" he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

"Anna's idea."

"And that?" he asked pointing to a candle lit by the bed. "Optimistic?"

"Hopeful."

"The kids?"

"In bed."

"Bob?"

"You mean Vivian?" she asked taking a sip of wine. "He's sleeping in Amanda's room. I believe he took the Little Mermaid bed. How's Carter?"

"He'll be fine. Might be grumpy tomorrow."

"That's okay. I told Bob I'd take the kids to that lighthouse up the road. Want to go?"

"Sure."

In those few minutes they had exchanged more meaningful conversation than they had since leaving Chicago more than a week previous.

"You want to talk about Africa?" he asked reluctantly, still on the opposite side of the room.

"No."

"Make love?"

"No." Making her way over to Luka, Sam put her arms tightly around his waist and let her head cozy into his chest through the white silk shirt he was still wearing. "I just want you to hold me. I just want us to sleep together."  
...

Carter looked so peaceful curled up on his side sound asleep. Anna leaned over and gently stroked his cheek, then his forehead, going from the rough stubble of his beard to the smooth skin above. His hair had gotten longer since their time working together back in Chicago. Perhaps thinner on top, but he was compensating for it by letting the length on the sides go.

"That better not be you, Kovac," he mumbled with his eyes still shut. "I'm not _that _desperate."

"I hope not." Anna let herself sit on the bed next to Carter and continued stroking his forehead. "Feeling okay?"

"Yes." He groaned as he turned onto his back. "I'd feel better if you and Luka, better known as Mother Teresa, would let me get some sleep." He was barely awake as it was.

"I'll, um, let you do that then and sit for a while over here," she said looking back at the chaise lounge.

"You can sit here," he said half asleep, patting the bed next to him.

She contemplated it and looked back and forth between the bed and the chair. He did say sit. Not lie down, not get naked, not consummate a long ago crush. Just sit.

"Stop thinking so hard about it," he mumbled still patting the mattress next to him. "Come talk to me."

Anna crawled up onto the bed and sat next to Carter who raised an arm inviting her to lie down next to him. It was only natural to curl up into him on her side and drape her arm over his chest. Before long, they were both securely sound asleep.  
...

"You okay in there, cowboy?" Bob stood at the bathroom door listening to Carter heave into the toilet. "You been driving the herd very long?" he asked as Carter finally came out with a wet, cool towel in hand wiping his face.

"No. That was it."

"Need me to call up that hot doctor of yours? She left for work a couple hours ago."

"Ah, that's okay Bob. This happens with concussions. Hopefully it will all be uphill from here."

"Good to see you finally gettin' some tail. Was beginning to wonder of you drank at a different bar, if you know what I mean."

"Ya kill me, Bob," Carter mocked heading upstairs to the kitchen. "And Anna and I are just friends."

"Uh-huh. I read people for a living, Carter. You're too old to be using the 'just friends' excuse."

"Gee thanks. What's this?" he asked looking at Anna's computer.

"Girls took the kids to some museum?"

"Yeah," Carter said studying the one picture on the screen. "Wright Brothers."

"Amanda used Colleen's digital camera and took pictures. Anna was helping her upload them and save them to disc."

"Bob? Take a look at this."

Both men moved in closer to the screen to get a better look. Reaching in front of Carter, Bob increased the size of the photo of the two kids standing in front of the replica of the 1903 Wright Flyer.

"See that?" Carter said pointing to someone in the background. "It looks just like the guy who pretended to be a cop back in Chicago."

"You sure about that?" Bob was not exactly baffled. More like stunned.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Where are they? Where are the kids?"

"Um, went to the Corolla Lighthouse I think. Bob, what is it?"

"I'm going after them," he said running to the door. "You have to get to Anna. If this is who I think it is, nobody is safe. _Nobody_."


	20. Chapter 20 The Obvious Tourists

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty**

"Good morning," Sam gave Luka as he came upstairs dressed for the day, but still somewhat wet from his morning shower. "Bagel? Or I think there's still a muffin left."

"Just toast." Luka approached Sam from behind as she put the kids' cereal bowls in the sink and wrapped his arms around her, drawing the back of her head into his chest. "You smell like tropical flowers," he said breathing in the scent of her hair.

"Mmm. I ran out of shampoo. Borrowed Anna's."

"Then I predict that Carter will soon be finding some good lovin'." Somehow his accent didn't do that old saying any justice.

"I think Anna might have something to say about that. Now, how about you answer my question," she giggled quietly, hoping not to draw the attention of the kids sitting at the computer desk. "Do I need to repeat it?"

"Burned." When Sam turned around and gave him a questioning look, he smiled sheepishly. "What can I say? It grew on me."

"Hey, Romeo and Juliet," Alex yelled across the room, "there are kids present. Either get a room or hurry it up with that poison drink."

"Sam, are we going to the lighthouse this morning?" Amanda asked totally ignoring Alex.

"As soon as you two finish up."

"Can my dad come?"

"Let's give him the morning to sleep. I bet he's real tired." Sam was a bit leery of this _Bob_ character. "Luka," she asked her voice subdued to almost a whisper, "I'm not sure of this guy. He gives me the creeps."

"Don't worry. He's all talk sometimes. It's part of the job." Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he could see that he was no comfort at all to Sam. "This is what he does. Come on, Romano was much more of a bastard than Bob has ever _tried _to be."

Turning around, Sam let her attention wander back to the window over the sink and the little old lady one house inland who had been rocking on her porch all morning just as she had the previous mornings watching Anna's house as though it were an occupation.  
---------

"Where are they?" Bob alarmingly demanded. "Where are the kids?"

"Um, went to the Corolla Lighthouse I think. Bob, what is it?"

"I'm going after them," he said running to the door. "You have to get to Anna. If this is who I think it is, nobody is safe. _Nobody_."

"Luka is with them."

"Doesn't matter, Frat Boy. They know I'm here, not with them. _Shit_," he spouted while grabbing his knife that he had put on the hall console and strapping it to his leg, then shoving a gun in the waistband of his pants under his shirt, "I got up late. Been busy and thought they were all down at the beach. I really fucked up."

"They know… how would…" Carter watched as Bob flitted from one door and window to another tinkering with little objects. "Who are _they_?"

"Let's go," Bob ordered opening the front door. "Come on, _come on._"

Carter grabbed his shoes and ran out the front door, barefoot, nearly tripping over a potted plant at the top of the stairs. For a moment he thought he was going to end up returning to Chicago racked in injuries again, only this time it would be from torturing himself.

"Bob, why the urgency? It's not like you've been here at all the last couple weeks."

"No, but it's the first time you turkeys have truly been alone. I've had someone watching you all along until our Croatian hero there went and blew the dam up north. He not only trapped in whoever was after you, and now we know who, but kept my guys holed up in the woods while Barney Fife of the North and his band of Inebriated Brothers played A-Team." Standing back from the house, Bob took out what looked like a remote control and pressed a button. "The only reason I'm here is because I was geographically closest to you. _I'm _the one who's supposed to be watching Amanda and whoever is with her from a distance."

"You knew I'd be bringing them here?"

"Who do you think bugged your phones, Swifty? Not that we were the only ones. We piggy backed off whoever got in there first." Bob led a speechless Carter down the boardwalk to the next house inland and put his arm around the little old lady out watering her flowers. "Good morning dear," he said with a soothing calm in his deep voice.

"Oh my, Bob, did you have fun surprising your niece and nephew?" she said as though she had known him all her life.

"Mrs. Bernard, you're so sweet." Bob put on a good show. "Johnny here was most surprised, weren't you?"

"Oh, most definitely, _Uncle Bobby_." Carter did his best to imitate a painful smile. He hated being called _Johnny_. Just hated it.

"Dear, we are working on a special surprise for Anna, and we need to borrow your car."

"You go right ahead, Bob. I only drive it on Sundays so there should be plenty of gas. I filled the tank in March." The thought that the little old lady with enormously thick eyeglasses even drove at all was disconcerting. "Keys are under the flower pot in the car port." Giving her a kiss on her head, Bob whispered something in her ear and gave her a hug before leaving her with her yard work.

"You know her?" Carter asked as they rushed to the driveway.

"Been renting a room from her." Bob sidled up to the black Lincoln Navigator parked behind the lady's car. "Flower pot's over there," he said, unlocking the door and sliding into the driver's seat. "I'm going up to the lighthouse. Get Anna and meet me there."

Left alone as Bob peeled out, Carter looked at _his _wheels - an orange two-door 1977 Chevy Chevette with a plastic daisy wired to the antenna. _Good lord_, he thought, _a Flintstone mobile_.

Flooring the car to get to a decent 45 mph, Carter searched for the small clinic in Corolla Anna had described. His head, still sore from the previous night, bumped up against the roof of the car every time he hit a rut in the road, and he finally ripped down the pine scented air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror after he became nauseas from it swinging in his peripheral vision. Finally passing a tourist area littered with plazas containing rental stores and souvenir shops, he found the small vegetable stand Anna had described on the corner of a private drive leading up to a cottage on the sound side of the island with an actual shingle that read:

**Northern Shores Pediatrics**

The car angrily sputtered when Carter turned off the ignition, something that made Carter instinctively look on the ground underneath just in case something was leaking or about to make the jalopy explode. Other than the sign out front and wheelchair ramp to the side, nothing screamed _medical office_ at all about the building. As he walked into the empty waiting area, a young woman, kind of doughty he thought, opened a glass window separating her from the clients.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a heavy southern drawl.

"I'm here to see Dr. DelAmico."

"Dr. Rosher." She looked over her glasses and leaned forward, her large body a formidable presence even with the reception desk between them.

"He's here too?"

"No. She still goes by that name here."

"Okay. Well then I need to see Dr. _Rosher_."

"You a drug rep? If you are, I need post-its and pens. You don't get to see the doctor 'til I see what you got in the trunk of your expensive car," the lady answered not quite sure who the man was in her pediatric office with no kids. "But I don't see no briefcase."

"No, I -"

" -Do you have a child with a problem?"

"No," he said getting irritated.

"Have you been here before?"

Carter's patience was getting short. "I just need to speak to her right away..."

"Why don't you take a seat and I'll see if she's available."

Before he could say anything, she slammed the window shut and left the desk. He didn't take a seat among the parenting magazines and toddler toys, but instead stayed at the window looking through to the other side hoping to catch Anna in the back. His eyes traveled from the samples of baby formula on the shelf behind the window to the coupons for liquid Advil and pamphlets on ADD, ear infections and asthma lining the walls of the waiting room. It seemed like the receptionist had been gone too long so Carter took it upon himself to find Anna himself, opening the door to the hallway holding the exam rooms.

Passing the three empty rooms to his right, Carter followed the hallway around the corner only to quite literally bump into the receptionist who proceeded to beat him over the head with a plastic toy hammer.

"Wait…" he yelled while covering his face with his arms, "I'm not…. Where…"

"**_Intruder, intruder_**," the overly zealous woman yelled.

Finally Carter opened his eyes when the beating halted, courtesy of Anna who held the woman's hand, the toy hammer tightly gripped high in the air. "Beth, it's okay. He's a doctor - a friend."

"Why didn't you say so?" she asked quite accusingly.

"Didn't give me a chance," Carter quickly answered, in a begging kind of way.

All three stood silently in the hall, Carter trying to get Anna's attention with his eyes.

"Beth, you need something?" Anna asked the woman whose prying motives were less than hidden.

"No."

"You can go now."

"Oh." As she walked away, the receptionist looked over her shoulder twice with just a hint of paranoia.

"She always like that?" Carter asked.

"Unfortunately. Don't worry, it's not you. She's never traveled much past Elizabeth City. Last year I took her to Richmond for a conference. Thought I'd broaden her horizons. The city creaped her out and now she thinks toddlers are packing guns in their diapers."

"Good work," he gave sarcastically.

"Hmm. What's up?"

"You, us, _they _- whoever _they _are."

"Huh?"

"Gotta get you out of here, per Bob's instructions. He thinks whoever is after Amanda is here. Can you leave?"

"Yeah. I only see walk-ins on Fridays and leave at one. I suppose I could close early. John, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure. I need you to drive us to the lighthouse."

Sending Beth home early, Anna turned over the phones to the answering service and locked the door behind her finding Carter leaning against…"

"Is that old Mrs. Bernard's car?" she laughed.

"It's a chick magnet. Yep," he boasted whacking the tinny roof with his hand. "Babes threw themselves at me when they saw me behind the wheel. Bob wanted it, you know, but he's just not man enough to handle it." Carter opened the door and handed the keys to her. "Can your leave your car here? I should get this back to your neighbor. She'll be needing it come Sunday, and my head just isn't into driving any further."

"Sure. Get in, Tom Cruise."

"Yeah? Do I get to sing in my underwear?"

_**

* * *

The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply.** -Kahlil Gibran 1883-1931, Lebanese Poet, Novelist

* * *

_

It was hard for Bob to keep his speed down on the two lane highway, the only road on the northern end of the barrier islands. Getting pulled over by over zealous, bored mini cops would serve no useful purpose and cause a delay he couldn't afford. Finally he saw the sign for the _Currituck Beach Lighthouse _at the edge of town and pulled in. They said the _Corolla _lighthouse. He hoped this was it.

The property was beautifully manicured and simple. A large white stick house - a duplex - stood to the side, a smaller white building with a sign announcing the museum shop was nearby. Looming not as tall as he had expected, was the brick lighthouse, the unpainted surface adding an unusual nakedness to it. Bob stuffed his hands in his pocket and tried to blend in, gazing furtively among the small crowd but not seeing the children or Sam and Luka.

"…_The red brick tower of the lighthouse is laid in one-to-three common bond and reaches 158 feet into the air. Connected to the base of the lighthouse is a small one-story brick building through which…" _

Passing by a group of tourists intently listening to the guide, Bob stopped and turned around making sure he had a visual count of all of the out-buildings.

"_The First Order Fresnel Lens is the most significant and valuable artifact and functioning aid to navigation in the Currituck Beach or any lighthouse."_

The lisp was hard to miss.

"_The original source of light was a mineral oil lamp consisting of five concentric wicks manned by two keepers, their families housed in the duplex. Today, the beam of a 1000 watt bulb refracted by the lens warns mariners 18 nautical miles out to sea."_

The way the man spoke, unnaturally elongating one syllable words as though to bring more meaning to them, grated on Bob's nerves. Inching his way through the group of people, he tried to get a look inside the lighthouse behind the tour guide.

"_Approximately one million bricks were used to build the structure. You'll find that the two hundred and fourteen steps up to the top go quite fast on the spiral staircase. From dusk to dawn… _hey, can't go up there yet, partner. Got plenty more to tell ya."

"I, ah, was supposed to meet my family here…"

"You'll have to wait. There's only one way up and down. Wouldn't be safe to allow two-way traffic." Even what he said away from the group sounded scripted.

"Can you tell me who's up there now?"

"Small group - tourist season doesn't pick up until end of the month. Couple kids, their mom, and a group of businessmen, I believe. _From dusk to dawn this lighthouse is still functional. With a 20-second flash cycle - on for 3 seconds, off for 17 seconds, the light can be seen for 18 nautical miles. The distinctive sequence enables the lighthouse not only to warn mariners but also to help identify their locations while…"_

Bob looked far up to the top, shading his eyes from the sun as it finally dipped behind a blanket of thick clouds, where he saw a walkway that encompassed the outside of the tower. Walking backwards he got far enough away so that he could focus a small set of binoculars in that direction without breaking his neck, but saw nobody.

"Bob? What are you doing here?"

"Where you been?" Bob asked without even flinching or needing to turn around to see that the voice belonged to Luka. It was his way, maybe his years of experience, a sixth sense, or ice cold nerves.

"Gift shop. Look," he said holding open a small bag, "I got Maggie Doyle a miniature lighthouse with a motion sensor. It'll light up when I walk near her - warn her that I'm coming. I think… Bob?"

"Where are Sam and the kids?" he asked still looking up into the sky with his binoculars.

"Waiting for me over there." Luka pointed to the crowd standing at the base of the lighthouse still listening to the drivel coming out of the monotoned, dreary guide, but he soon lowered his arm. "She said they'd wait for me. Where'd they go?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

"If I'd known you really wanted to come along I would have woken you up, but -"

" -I've raided my fair share of lighthouses. This is work, Kovac."

"Hi guys," Anna's voice announced from behind.

"Hail, hail the gang's all here," Bob sarcastically muttered in a dead pan.

"Okay…" Luka was getting antsy. "…what's going on?"

"Bob saw someone in the kids' pictures they took at the museum the other day," Carter explained. "he's worried about -"

"Look, there's Alex," Luka announced as he smiled and waved up at the lighthouse tower.

Sam emerged onto the walkway followed by Amanda who spotted her father and waved excitedly along with Alex.

"Hi Daddy," she yelled while waving her hand enthusiastically. "You look tiny."

As the three enjoyed the view, two men appeared behind them and looked down at the ground over the children's shoulders.

"Stay here Carter," Bob yelled, his feet already moving.

Bob and Luka bolted for the lighthouse entrance and barged ahead of the other tourists just beginning their journey up the stairs. They took two steps at a time up the winding rod-iron staircase using the few landings on the turnarounds to get past two older women and then a man who were making their way down, and to skip by the slower ones in the process of reaching the top - those not in a hurry to save a loved one's life. The small enclosure, even though their ascent seemed infinite, concentrated the clanging of their shoes on the suspended metal that made their ears ring, and getting up all of those two hundred and fourteen stairs was not as quick as Dreary-Tour-Guide made it out to be.

Their lungs burning from sucking in the stagnant air, they barged through the entrance to the walkway and inhaled deeply, their bodies exhausted and wobbly from working muscles seldom used at their age. The walkway was narrow and at first they were startled not to see the kids where they'd last been seen, but a few steps around and they found both of them and Sam on the opposite side trying to get a picture of some of the wild Corolla horses grazing down in a field over by the sound.

"Where'd they go?" Luka asked, wanting to take breaths in place of the words.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"The men."

"What men?"

Bob interrupted, taking Amanda's hand and starting back for the door. "Time to go."

Amanda dug her feet in and stopped short of going back in the tower. "I'm not done yet. I have to take more pictures."

In Bob's haste he had initially missed his daughter's striking resemblance to her mother wearing khaki shorts, the over sized utility vest and camera around her neck, but her attitude at that point and screwed up, pissy face stabbed straight though him. He wanted to throw his arms around her right at that moment and hold her tight, but as his eyes wandered back to the ground below and caught Anna being dragged towards the parking lot by a man, instinct automatically switched him from Daddy mode to CIA agent.

"This isn't good," he mumbled, glad that Luka's ear was closer than Amanda's.

Luka saw the same thing. "Where's Carter?"  
----------

"Let _go _of me," Anna demanded, eventually jerking her elbow free. "Are you following me?"

"Where's your boyfriend?" Max asked, his voice in a controlled but angry whisper.

"What?"

"You heard me. Where is he? I saw him from up there," he said pointing to the top of the lighthouse. "Don't tell me he's not here to get a piece of your ass. I saw the way you put your arm around him."

"He has a _concussion_, Max. He got dizzy looking straight up." She was searching his face for answers, bewildered not only by his demeanor, but by his shear presence. "Why are you even here?"

Max didn't even seem to hear her as he swiveled his head around in search of someone.

"What are you on this time, Max? Hmm?"

"Shut up. You have no idea… Wha… why do you always have to go there?"

"Anna? What's going on?" Carter stepped up next to her, close to her, with two bottles of water.

"Nothing. Max was doing a little sightseeing of his own."

"Here? Where he lives? Imagine that."

Quite literally between the two men, Anna struggled to keep her anger at bay. "Max, why don't you just go home."

"Candlewyck _is _my home."

"Not any more," Carter said, butting in. "She wants you to go. Do the right thing, Max," he said in a strong, clear voice, "and leave."

"You have no idea what -"

" -Leave," Carter firmly repeated, not giving Max the opportunity to have the last word.

"Isn't it convenient that you happened to be here at the same time as your ex-wife?" Bob bellowed as he came around from behind the trees with Luka, Sam and the kids close behind.

"How many guys you bedding in that house, Anna?"

With that, Bob pulled his right arm back, balled his hand into a fierce fist and gave Max a right hook he was sure to remember. But Bob wasn't done yet. He bent over a sprawled out Max flat on his back soothing his aching jaw, and spoke with an even and unflustered voice. "In some cultures, disrespecting a woman will get your Johnson cut off. I've lived in those cultures and it's quite something to be a part of." With a condescending pat to Max's head, Bob stood and straightened his shirt.

"Hey… **_hey_**," Max whined as he got to his feet, "you kids get away from my Escalade. _Go on_," he yelled as he made his way to where Amanda and Alex were pawing at his new vehicle and fingerprinting the fancy windows and hubcaps, "**get away**."

All Bob had to do was clear his throat and Max got in the expensive Escalade and drove out as fast as he could.

"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" Sam asked.

"We're not alone, and you, missy, took off with the kids."

Sam looked puzzled and furrowed her brow at Bob's insinuation.

Anna could feel a confrontation of words and jumped in. "What do you mean, we're not alone?"

"Look around you," Bob said, his eyes directing the group in different directions. "Filter out the obvious tourists and tell me what you see. Carter?"

"Well, there's a guy reading a paper over by the tree."

"Ever stop at a tourist spot to check the financials?" Bob asked. "Luka?"

"At the end of the parking lot there's a black Yukon with two men in the front seat. The engine's been running and they have ear pieces."

"Yep." Bob kept his voice low and looked away from where he was talking about. "There's the woman with no children, by herself at the water fountain. Hasn't moved the entire time we've been here. She's young, athletic and wearing long sleeves in eighty-five degree heat. The sky is overcast but they're all wearing dark glasses, and their eyes have been on our every move. Then there's this Max guy…"

"Hold it," Anna interjected, impressed with Bob's skills, but not with his accusations, "Max is not wrapped up in some spy thing."

"He's got an obvious attachment to you, he's vulnerable, has a reason to get near you, get access to the house _and _he's expendable."

"Look, Bob," Luka asked very close to his ear so as not to share his question with the kids, "I thought these guys had a mission to kill Amanda and then you. They've had plenty of opportunity, why are they hanging around?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

"No one's at the house," Anna announced with alarm. "They could get in."

"Not to worry Doc," Bob said as he got out his keys and started for his car, "I made certain security precautions to the structure, and besides, Mrs. Bernard has it covered."


	21. Chapter 21 Truth, Ugly and Blunt

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"No one's at the house," Anna announced with alarm. "They could get in."

"Not to worry Doc," Bob said as he got out his keys and started for his car, "I made certain security precautions to the structure, and besides, Mrs. Bernard has it covered."

"What did he mean by that," Sam asked Luka, "about me taking off with the kids?"

"I'm hungry. Can we go now?" Alex and Amanda were done playing tourist and wandered towards Luka's SUV.

"Are they going to follow us?" Carter wondered out loud. "I'm not sure I could out run a scooter in this car."

The overlapping conversations didn't bode well for Anna who put her hands out. "Hey, someone want to help me out? What does Mrs. Bernard have to do with this?"

Bob stopped half way into his car and turned to face Anna. "Do you have reservations about me and my ability to keep us safe, Dr. DelAmico?" He enjoyed the mind games.

"Well, yeah. I mean no… but Mrs. Bernard? She's a frail old lady."

"_Bernard _- means 'strong as a bear'. Ever talk to her? Get to know her?" he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

"No. Not really. Nothing other than a friendly hello."

"Shame on you, naughty neighbor. Mrs. _Bernard_," he said with an obvious French accent, "has only been a citizen of this country since 1956. Her husband was an operative with the French Resistance during World War Two. He was captured twice by the _SS_, and escaped twice. Each time she took over for him while he was being held. After the war they came to the states where they both worked in foreign intelligence. She's probably seen more than I have." With a wink, Bob sat in his car and closed the door, his arm resting on the open window. "Don't underestimate the old broad." Bob pointed at the entrance to the parking lot and started the engine. "Come on. We'll drive back together, all three vehicles. Amanda stays with you, Luka. No way is it safe enough for us to travel together until we find out what they want us for. And Sam, sweetheart, this time don't let your pretty behind wander away from the big guy."

"What the hell is with that guy?" Sam asked pointedly.

"He knows what he's doing, Sam."

"Does he know that he's a flaming egomaniacal asshole too?"

"I'm sure he does," Luka said with just a hint of a smile. "Seems to work for him."

"Well it's not working for me." For Sam, having to put up with this man who barged into their lives by proxy with his daughter first, then in the flesh through the window, her life was feeling more and more closed in.

Bob and Mrs. Bernard exchanged winks, smiles and nods when they got out of the cars back at Anna's. Carter was the first up the staircase eager to get back into the air conditioning and away from the drama.

"Let me get the door," Bob said to him climbing the stairs behind the rest of the crew. "Carter…"

"_Ow! Jesus Christ!" _Carter held his arm out as it temporarily stiffened, then quivered in spasms.

"I did say to let me get the door, didn't I?" Bob was so non-chalant as he took Carter's arm and looked it over. "Give it a few minutes, it'll subside."

"I thought you were just being polite," Carter said, breathing hard as he tried to control his arm.

"Me?" Bob snorted, finally opening the door after taking his hand out of his pocket. "Kind of hard to believe, eh?"

"I'll say," Sam said under her breath.

The kids ran upstairs right to the computer and started downloading the pictures they took, adding them to a photo album they had created. Anna and Sam managed to pull together a hodge podge lunch that everyone gravitated to eventually, eating wherever they found a modicum of peace.

"So who's the guy?" Carter asked Bob between bites.

"Which one?"

"In the picture at the Wright Brothers museum."

"I'm pretty sure it's someone I know from the agency."

"The kids have them all organized," Sam added, eager for information, "let's go back through the pictures."

"**Not now**." Bob gave her a searing look knowing the kids were too close to get into it.

"Wow," Alex said, elbowing Amanda, "did your dad just gave my mom the stink-eye?"

"Why not now?" Sam asked. "Or do you spies only work in dark, secret caves?"

"I said **not now**, and I mean it." Bob stood with his empty plate and headed for the kitchen, stopping between Luka and Sam's chairs for one last word. "I'm not gonna argue with you little lady, and I mean it." He was all business with her, but didn't hide his sarcasm as he gave Luka a pat on the back. "_Geez_, you like obstinate women."

"You know, that's it." Sam walked over to the sink next to Bob and dropped in her plate wishing the crash had been louder. "I've had it with you. You barge into our lives, _risk _our lives and now you think it's okay to treat me like a cheap kept woman in front of my son?"

"It's not like you've been leading by example, young lady," Bob spit back calmly.

"Um, come on kids," Anna said as she prodded them out of their seats, "Hot tub needs some company. I'll open it up for you."

"All right!" Alex declared as he and Amanda rushed downstairs to the second floor deck.

Bob and Sam caught on and fought with themselves to keep their mouths shut until the kids were safely out of ear shot.

"How dare you take cheap shots at me in front of Alex," Sam dealt back within spitting range. "You of all people have no right to tell me how to raise my child -"

" -Sam -" Luka tried to bust into the petit war raging in the kitchen but knew he would get no where.

Sam didn't listen and kept on. "You abandoned your child, make her sneak around thugs and war lords to see you a couple times a year and then hold yourself up to be some hero behind a badge and a bunch of half-truth stories told to her with a puffed out chest and scotch tinged breath. It's no wonder Colleen left you."

"You want to play that game Samantha? All right, deal me in. Texas Hold 'em. Here's something for the anty - your fourth grade teacher wanted to hold you back a year because you were stubborn and failed the standardized state tests on purpose for jollies, but your parents fought it." Bob came around in front of Sam and did what he does best: got in her face. "Seventh grade - ran away from home twice. Asking your church minister for Asylum, not the brightest move. Who's winning?"

Again, Luka tried to intervene. "Bob, I don't think -"

"Not now," he said with his arm outstretched in Luka's face but still staring into Sam's eyes, "we're getting to the flop."

Carter stood by uncomfortably. Anna came up the stairs and stood silently in his shadow.

"Your knight in shining armor knocks you up at fifteen, this time your parents don't go after you when you leave home. Stevie breaks your nose at twenty-nine weeks gestation but you tell the doctor that you fell in the shower. You took him back. When you gave birth, he was doing ninety days in county jail for drunken disorderly, possession of a controlled substance and failing to appear in court on a charge of writing bad checks. Surprise, you took him back." The closer he got, the more Sam turned her head away. "The turn card - on the kid's first and second birthdays he was doing two to five for statutory rape of a fifteen year old cheerleader in San Diego. Seems _her _mummy and daddy cared. And you _still _took him back. And here's the river card, you finally kicked him out of the apartment after the two of you had an argument about the babysitter he knocked up. Only, there was more to it, wasn't there."

"Just stop," she whispered finally unable to look him in the eye.

"You judged me. I judge you. Time to see what you've been hiding in those pocket cards. See, my people tell me that he did time for burglary shortly after that and bragged to his cell mates that he posted pictures of his naked wife on the internet and made enough money to support his recreational drug use, yet to this day you still invite him into charming little Alex's life. Now, let's talk about who the better parent is."

Sam turned around and leaned on the counter, grateful to at least get a few more inches away from Bob's face. She didn't want to cave at that moment and let him see her vulnerability. "We need to call the police. After all this time, we're stuck here and you don't even know who we're dealing with."

"Obviously neither do you," Bob gave her. "There's a lot to this, and those people out there aren't just the brainless street perps you're used to dealing with."

Sam's voice quivered just slightly as she continued to stair at the window over the sink, pushing Luka away as he tried to put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't you think you might be out of your league here? This isn't some village spat in the middle east or Africa."

"Spat? Well, isn't ignorance bliss?" he asked rhetorically, his neck veins raised. "You have no idea what it's like to live in a civil war where it's more obvious than not that you aren't a local - that you can be bought and sold, used or killed."

"Luka doesn't tell me anything because of a promise he made to _you_."

"Bob…," this time Luka walked in front of Bob, "… that's enough."

"Come on…" Carter pleaded.

"No," Bob countered, "she wants to know. Carter, tell her about how you were tied up by your wrists until your arms popped out of their sockets and then whipped over and over in the blazing sun with your back split open. Tell her about how they beat the shit out of you and laughed in your face at the same time. They did, didn't they?" he asked a speechless Carter who managed to turn away from the oral debacle and stare at his feet. "To the point that you had seizures. Right? And Luka, you've told her about Jules. About how he managed to mentally torture you, the first time face to face, the second time through my ex-wife as she prostituted herself to you, and you to her. How she stole the drugs, tried to frame Carter based on his history of addiction, and how she managed to drill herself so far into your head, Luka, that you turned on your best friend and believed her, not him. Then there's how the two of you ended up with guns…"

"**Stop**," Luka yelled, shoving Bob away - hard. "It's not your place. Just leave it."

"Did you know, Luka, that Jules paid for the clinic in Ikela fronted by a phony corporation? It was about to shut down when suddenly," Bob said with his arms raised in dramatic flair, "a donation was given to the _Alliance_. Our buddy Sean was too eager and green to check it out. So in essence, you were working for Jules and treating his rebels' families, for the most part. Your carelessness that last day there cost the lives of the two women who stayed behind to treat a kid of a rival war lord. Jules took offense."

"Chibon and Agunda," Carter mumbled, his hand wiping the exasperation from his face.

"And I don't know how," Bob continued, "but he knew who you were, Carter, _long _before you met Jules. He knew your net worth, and intended all along to capitalize on it. Getting Luka in the process was pure entertainment."

In that moment, Sam took advantage of the quell and slipped away into her room. When Carter turned around to watch her go down the stairs, he saw Anna in back of him obviously shaken by what she had heard. She, too, found something to do leaving the three men alone in the living room.

"Great. Thanks," Luka spit out as he sat himself down hard in a chair.

Carter let himself drop onto the sofa and leaned forward on his elbows. "Not exactly how I wanted Anna to find out about the drug thing."

"Hey, come on guys," Bob said, opening the screen door and standing in the thresh hold smoking a cigarette, "it's all peripheral information. So they didn't like my delivery. Doesn't change the facts. They were bound to find out."

"Bob," Carter said while putting his feet up on the coffee table, leaning back and closing his eyes, "there's a reason you're divorced and destined to be single, and somehow I think it suits you. But the girls aren't the enemy here."

Bob shrugged his shoulders and went onto the deck, closing the door behind him.

"Should have warned Sam not to piss Bob off," Carter said aloud to the ceiling he was staring at.

"Yep." Luka remained in the chair staring at his own piece of air.

"Luka? Don't you think -"

"Yep." Luka didn't need to hear the rest of Carter's advice and went downstairs to Sam's room.

Carter picked his head up let his voice trail off after Luka. "I'll keep the kids company for as long as you need."

She was in the oversized bathtub, the radio playing quietly by the bed. Her legs were drawn up and restrained by her arms, her head down resting on her knees. Luka stood in the doorway and watched as she simply sat in the water, the skylight allowing dappled sunshine peeking from around the clouds to playfully caress the soft silky skin of her back, and reflect off the pristine water. Picking her shirt up off the floor, Luka held it to his face and inhaled her smell, longing for the days when his disturbing past was nothing but an innocent secret and their time together in bed was sensual and erotic, gentle and loving, timeless - carefree.

Luka made sure the bedroom door was closed and locked. He needed to talk to Sam without interruption - Alex, Bob or otherwise. He started to go into the bathroom but stopped one more time to watch her from behind. She looked so beautiful, yet solitary, all balled up into a bundle of hurt. Quietly, he sat down on the tiled ledge next to her and picked up a washcloth, drawing the warm water up over her back.

"Sam… I'm sorry…"

"You didn't do anything."

"That's just it. I _didn't_."

They remained there, she staring blankly ahead of her, he gently washing her shoulders and back.

"Bob is… it's just what he does, but I didn't think he'd go so far," Luka tried to explain. "I tried… but when he bought up Jules I froze."

"Is everything he said true?" she finally asked.

"I've never known him to lie. It's not in his nature. He's brutal, but honest. I guess it's the way people like him survive." Luka had a knot in his stomach that needed untying for once. "I have… I have had the hardest time living with myself knowing that I let Colleen convince me that Carter was stealing drugs from the camp. It was bad enough that I'm responsible for Joseph's death, but I should have known. I should have believed Carter over her."

As Luka stopped to reach down and get fresh water, Sam rested her face sideways on her knees so she could see Luka, but let him take his time.

"Something about her sucked me in. She was such a free spirit. Strong and determined, smart, not afraid of anything," he chuckled inside.

_**She's like the swallow that flies on high  
**__**She's like the river that never runs dry  
**__**She's like the sun beaming on the lee shore**_

"I believed her right up to the end when I saw her with Jules at this… this celebration deep in the jungle with all kinds of dignitaries," he said, his face drawn down. "She was the only media. With what Carter had been trying to tell me it made sense, it just clicked. And _she _knew at that point that _I _knew."

_**I love my love, but love is no more **_

"Later, I walked into a clearing where Jules had found Carter and was taunting him. I was right behind Jules, but he didn't know it. And across from me, Colleen walked up behind Carter and put a gun to his head. Carter didn't see her, but he _did _see me and my gun pointed towards him." Luka stopped and let the washcloth drop into the water. "The look on his face…that he thought I had committed the ultimate act of deception and was about to kill him sliced right through me, but I had to stay focused. You know," he said with a definite breathless pause as though he were making a sudden discovery, "I could have shot her anywhere on her body, even just nicked her hand, but when I put that bullet through her heart I did it with purpose." Luka leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, head in hands. "There are these little red flowers that grow on the jungle floor - only in clearings and only very sparsely. I forgot the name of them, but they are so rare that the people there almost revere them as magical. But at that one spot they were all over."

_**Then out of these roses she made a bed  
**__**A scarlet pillow for her head**_

"I remember when I kneeled down next to her and looked in her eyes - wide open in death - the blood bubbled out of her mouth and ran down her cheeks onto this carpet of flowers connecting them and making one large red bed. I see that when I close my eyes, when I see a woman with red hair, when I see Amanda…"

_**She lay her down, no word did she speak  
**__**And then this maiden's heart it did break. **_

Turning sideways in the tub, Sam uncurled herself and wrapped her arms around Luka's hips caressing his back gently, her chin resting on his thigh. "It's okay that you loved her," Sam finally said. "It's sad that she couldn't see you for who you are. But I do, and I love you." She waited but his head just wasn't there at the moment. "He doesn't blame you… I don't think he does," she tried to console him. "He knows now you weren't pointing the gun at him."

"I know."

"You've talked about this, right?"

Luka remained silent in thought and in voice.

"You've talked to no one about this?" she asked astounded with the deeply painful secret he had been holding onto all this time. He only shook his head confirming her assumption.

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you okay with the shit Bob spewed all over up there?"

"He knows his stuff." Sam got out of the tub and, dripping wet, pulled Luka to his feet. "Steve wasn't at Alex's birthday parties because he was working on a cargo ship out of San Diego. At least that's what he told me, and I believed it."

"And the pictures…?

"I knew he took them. Said they were for when he got lonely out at sea," Sam snorted, rolling her eyes back. "I was young and stupid… should have known he'd sell them. Just one more thing to explain to Alex eventually. Yay, Google," she unenthusiastically cheered.

Luka pulled her into his warm, clothed body and held her tight. "It happened, it can't be fixed. We can only move on with what we have. And I think that's pretty great." He smiled as he smoothed Sam's hair back away from her face and leaned down to plant his warm lips on hers.

"My funny valentine," she whispered between kisses.

"What?"

"My Funny Valentine. It's playing on the radio. You said I was your funny valentine in February and I got mad at you. Remember?"

Luka giggled, his eyes shining for the first time in days. "Oh, yeah. Except I got the song wrong and called you my _silly _valentine."

"What can I say? PMS." As Luka gently dragged his fingers up and down her back, Sam found herself needing him in a way that they hadn't shared since Chicago. "I'm wet," she tried in vain to protest. "Your shirt's getting wet."

"Mmm, I know. I'll hang it up to dry," he said taking it off and letting it fall to the floor. Her skin felt exquisite against his, the moisture making it easier to move against her. His lips falling lower to her neck just under her ear, Luka let his pants fall into a pile next to the shirt and stepped out of them. Her trademark gasp let him know that he'd found the sweet spot on her jugular that nearly made her leap out of her skin.

"Luka, do you think that we should -"

"Shhh." Putting his finger over her lips, Luka pushed her out of the bathroom and gently laid her down on the bed. His long arms fit nicely on each side of her head as he sat astride and leaned in for another deep, sensual kiss. He savored her taste from her warm, moist lips to her supple breasts, the silky valley of her naval and then the pink folds of desire.

As they made love, he thought of Sam and only Sam for the first time - of how she made him feel, how she knew just what to do to make him crazy for her. They didn't rush or follow a plan, rather they lived in the moment as though it were their last, only it was really the beginning.  
----------

The sun finally escaped the clouds long enough for dinner to be enjoyed out on the deck. Even Bob volunteered to cook.

"That's a real pretty necklace," Anna said to Amanda as they sat at the picnic table. "It's Irish, isn't it?"

"Yep. My friend Sean gave it to me. It symbolizes love, friendship and loyalty."

"Is that how it goes?" Anna asked, enjoying their girl time.

"A man in Ireland was taken away for many years and when he got back his true love had waited for him. So he made her this necklace."

"That's very sweet."

Amanda played with the pendant with her fingers, then reached behind her and undid the clasp taking it off. "I want you to have it."

"Oh, no, Amanda. I can't take that."

"Well, my dad loves me, Alex is my friend, and I guess that means we'll be loyal. I think you need love and a friend," she said standing up and walking around in back of Anna, not giving her a chance to protest as her small hands draped the necklace around Anna's neck and closed the clasp. "And you need a hug."

Anna soaked up the hug the little girl threw around her. "How about I just borrow it for a few days. Would that be okay?" The two came to an agreement and tapped their foreheads together.

"Where's my mom?" Alex asked, taking another bite of the hamburger Bob had managed to overcook on the grill.

"Um," Carter shifted in his deck chair uncomfortably, "she and Luka are talking."

"Still?"

"Yeah. Sure. Grown ups… talk."

"They used to have private talks a lot, but not so much lately."

"Well, then," Carter said with his back turned, smiling, "it's good that they're… they're, ah, talking again," he stammered. Anna sat next to Amanda and enjoyed the maze Carter was getting himself lost in.

"Sure have been talking for a long time," Amanda remarked innocently.

Anna gave Carter a smile and a wink. "Mm hmm. Sure have."

"Hey dad?" Amanda said, trying to get Bob's attention away from the newspaper he was reading through his half-moon glasses pushed to the end of his nose.

"Yes, Princess?"

"You know that guy in the picture of the museum you and Sam were talking about?"

"Not for you to worry about, Princess," he answered, barely shifting his attention away from the front page. "That was for grown-ups."

"I've seen him before."

That got Bob's attention as he pulled the newspaper into his chest and quickly took off the glasses. "Where?"

"In Mommy's pictures."

"That's not possible Amanda. I went through them all back in Africa."

"No. The ones in her digital camera."

"She didn't have a digital camera."

"Uh-huh. It was our secret. She had a little one in her vest. See?" Amanda took off the vest and reached into an inside pocket pulling out a small silver camera.

Carter stood and went to where Bob had scooted in next to his daughter at the picnic table.

"Which picture?" Bob asked as he scrolled through the memory and peered at the little screen.

"I don't know. Some campfire."

As Bob got to those pictures, he leaned in to Carter and shared the view. "Look, there he is with Jules and…"

"Hey," Alex spoke up reaching for the vest, "what else have you got in there?"

Amanda bolted up from the table but wasn't quick enough in her protectiveness of her mother's vest to escape Alex's grasp as he took hold of a corner and pulled hard spilling out a surprising cache onto the floor of the deck.

"My, my, my," Bob exclaimed, squatting down to get a better look. "This gets more and more interesting, doesn't it?"

* * *

_"She's Like a Swallow"  
__**Traditional Canadian/Irish Folk Song**  
__Can be heard on Lucia Micarelli's Album:  
__Music from a Farther Room_


	22. Chapter 22 Hide and Seek: Truth

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"Where did these come from?" Bob asked as the others gathered around to see what had spilled from Amanda's vest.

"I don't know," the little girls answered. "I've never seen them before."

"I pulled on the vest," said an observant Alex. "It tore. See?" Holding the vest up that Amanda had dropped, it was obvious that the hem on the bottom had come open. "Are those _diamonds_?"

"Sure looks like it, son." Bob took the vest and carefully ran his fingers up and down the seems, just in case. "This was your mother's vest, Princess?" A very serious Bob asked his daughter. "I went through all her things, and she was wearing her vest when she was… This isn't hers."

"No. But she had one just like it." Her childlike fantasy now uncovered, Amanda's smile faded with the admission to herself that, once again, what she pretended to be a gift from her mother, really wasn't. "I pretend it was hers."

"It was mine," Carter offered. "Amanda found it at my house and I let her have it."

"And how did you get it?"

"Ah…" Carter felt mildly uncomfortable, as though he was being interrogated, but only because he had to talk about things in front of Anna. Actually, just talk about them in general. "Colleen and I went on, um, a mission - I guess you could call it - across the border. You know…," he baited Bob not wanting to get into explicit detail.

"I remember well. If I recall correctly, that was when I had to hunt you two wayward brats down. Never did tell me _exactly _where you were."

"Wish I knew. All I know is that she took me to a rebel and his people who needed medical help. We ended up prancing around government soldiers to get them to a hospital. Emile gave me his vest..."

"_Emile_? Emile…?" Bob fished for more.

"Dia Wamba. Emile Dia Wamba." Carter knew that with Bob's skill he'd know who the guy was.

"_You _knew Dia Wamba?" Bob snarked. "Uh-huh."

"Yeah. And his sons. They're the ones who took me back to Jules' encampment when I was looking for Luka. I crossed the border, mentioned his name, mentioned mine, and poof…"

Bob gathered the spilled goods up into his hands and sat on the picnic bench. "Well, no shit Sherlock. I'm impressed Carter. Do you know who you were dealing with?"

"I didn't then."

"Still doesn't explain how these got in the vest. And the camera…"

"Mommy had a secret place in her backpack for it. She showed me last year."

"I have to admit," Bob spoke quietly to Carter, "I wasn't as thorough as I should have been before I gave that to Amanda."

"What's going on?" Luka stepped out onto the deck with a beer. "Where'd the Ugandan beer come from in the fridge?"

"Ah, something I thought you'd appreciate," Bob said with a sly grin.

Luka screwed up his face after taking a slug from the bottle. "I remember it tasting better than this."

"You remember not having anything else to compare it to, my friend."

"**_Whoa_**…" Luka's eyes popped out of his head at the sight of what was laid out in front of Bob on the table. "Are those…?"

"You bet." Bob gathered everything up and started for the door. "Amanda, bring your mother's camera inside. Let's take a better look at those pictures on the computer and see who we recognize."

With the pictures loaded onto the computer, Luka, Carter and Bob moved in for a closer look. First the pictures at the museum. Carter and Luka both agreed that it was the same man who masqueraded as a Chicago Police detective.

"That's his M-O," Bob huffed. "Loves to play cop. Gotta admit - it works for him." He gently stroked Amanda's hair as he contemplated something sinister. "Right under my nose and all I smelled was roses." For such a determined man of confidence, the slip in his voice was all too obvious to Carter and Luka.

"Who?" Luka asked. "What is he to you?"

"How about this one?" Bob asked, ignoring Luka's question. "This looks like it was taken that last night at the encampment outside of Mbandaka."

"That's the campfire picture," Amanda spoke up from over Bob's shoulder. "There he is. See? Do I know him, Daddy?"

As her little finger reached in and pointed at a group of men sitting together next to Jules, Bob sat up straight and grabbed the mouse, editing the shot until that corner was enlarged enough to make out the faces.

"I know him," Carter said quite assuredly as he pointed at an African sitting to Jules' right.

"I've met him before too." Luka's arms were crossed in front of him, his eyes cast down at the computer. "But not in Africa."

"Wait a minute," Carter said, confused. "He's a doctor I met on the road to this place. He was treating Jules' rebels."

"From Rwanda, I know. I met him at a refugee camp in Macedonia a few years ago. He's the one who talked me into coming to the Congo." Luka stretched his neck and checked the picture again before making another assumption. "And this guy next to him - that's the UN guy - Bongala, who got us out of the Congo..."

"…and who helped me get back into Uganda after my little trip with Colleen," Carter finished for Luka. "I thought you arranged for him to get me, Bob."

"I thought I did too - the _first _time." His laugh was just a chuckle at first, then built to raging laughter as Bob stood up and walked to the refrigerator to get a beer. "Twenty-three fucking years in this business, _years _trying to identify Jules' co-conspirators and all it takes is my ex-wife's camera, two nosey doctors and my ten year old daughter. It all makes sense now," he said taking a large gulp. "I cannot believe that shit-head did this to me," he grunted between his teeth as he flicked the bottle cap into the sink. _Clink_.

"Bob, the kids…" Anna quietly reminded him.

"Foul times call for foul mouths," Amanda announced. "That's what my Grandma says."

"_Way cool_." Alex was finally impressed. "Does that mean I can say mother fu-"

" -_**NO**_!" Sam was quick to cover her son's mouth, having just rounded the corner into the living room. "Come on kids," she announced, "downstairs. Foosball and then bed." She marched them to the stairs then stood at the top until they were out of sight before going back to Luka's side.

"Time's up, Bob." Carter finally got himself a beer and sat down on a chair next to the computer. "What do you know?"

"Okay. This guy that has been following you is actually my immediate superior at the agency - _Ellington. _He's the one who has been telling me about the terrorists in the middle east who are out to get me. At least the information comes from him and his people. But only them. It was _his _idea to place me in Africa far from the states and to _keep _me from the states, all for my own safety and Amanda's - so he says." Bob kept going through the pictures on the computer until he got to one in particular that showed Jules, with Ellington, the doctor, Bongala, and one other white man. "The Rwandan doc we knew had ties to Jules. He was a bumbling idiot that talked too much. God help his patients."

Carter had seen the man's handy work up close and personal. _Bumbling idiot _was probably too kind. He'd seen med students do better work.

"Now Bongala - he's new information. The first time you met him he was probably the one who handled the transfer of money from the Carter Foundation to Jules - keeping a little for himself I'm sure - and no, I didn't send him after you Carter this last time. I suspect he was watching you and got you out of there because Colleen was with you. He wasn't protecting _you_. Now this guy here," he said pointing to the unknown white man in the picture, "kind of pieces things together and makes our little game here much more complicated. Anybody recognize him?"

"We should know him?" Luka asked.

Nobody said anything as they each took turns moving in for a closer look.

"Can you enlarge it?" Carter asked, his eyes super focused on the screen. Something caught his attention. "Bigger?" As Bob enlarged it to the point that the pixels didn't distort the image, Carter's face drew down, his jaw nervously jutting to the left and right.

"John, what is it?" Luka asked.

"I know him. He knows me."

"I'm sure he does," Bob interjected savoring what he already knew. "Friend of the family's?"

"No, not really. He's a corporate dog, owns a huge conglomerate of mostly media - print, radio and TV. His family has more influence on government, police agencies and media all over the world than the super powers. We know of each other, but my family has been at odds with his for years."

"And knows your personal wealth I bet," Anna said.

"Now you're beginning to see the bigger picture." Bob smiled as the pieces of the puzzle came into focus. "This guy you're talking about - _Douglas Arkwright _- has been in and out of our radar for years as one of the western corporate big wigs using resources in Africa - and elsewhere - illegally to fund their own interests. When the media was deregulated in the U.S., greed became fashionable. Most of the large media outlets, be they newspapers, television or radio, are owned by the same few people all with agendas. The problem with that is it has become a game of one-upsmanship. Mr. 'X' owns fifty markets - Mr. 'Y' fights to get fifty-one. But it costs money - big money, millions, if not billions. The fact that he and Ellington were working with Jules makes a whole lot of sense. Together with a third piece to the puzzle that makes him one powerful man."

"Third piece?" Luka asked, but Bob chose to ignore him yet again.

"But Jules is dead," Anna reminded him. "What could they possibly want from Amanda?"

"Exactly what was in the vest: African blue diamonds." Bob turned out the large cache of interesting diamonds, most raw and uncut, onto the desk and mindlessly pushed a few around with his finger. "I bet Colleen was a mule for Jules. You see, diamond mining in Congo is a bloody sport - everyone wants a piece of it - and the blue diamonds are the most valuable and sought after fetching up to more than half a million dollars _per carat_. Mbuji-Mayi is the hub of the country's diamond industry. Jules home-fronted in Mbadaka on the border. Half way between those two points is Ikela." As he spoke, Bob watched Carter's and Luka's widening eyes as they grasped the unfolding secrets. "While you two were tending to patients at the clinic there, Jules and his boys were smuggling diamonds through the region and trading them for cold hard American cash with our western corporate whores. While the government is so busy ferreting out the dirty African smugglers, who would suspect a red headed American media beauty with a famous name of carrying these rare diamonds?"

"What about the drugs Colleen was stealing?" Carter asked.

"The handlers getting them from one region to the next don't use currency. There are too many nationalities and currencies to make any useful, but drugs can always be traded. To Jules the drugs were his payroll, but the diamonds were his crop. The question is, what was Colleen doing with these diamonds and how did they get in Carter's vest?"

"They were put in my vest," Carter easily added. "The night she was in my room supposedly planting the Demerol she also probably put the diamonds in my vest for safe keeping."

"Three points - nothing but net," Bob awarded Carter. "Now, what was she doing with them? Holding them for Jules? Doubt it. My guess is that she was muling them and each time keeping one for herself either for profit or blackmail insurance. After her death Ellington and Jules must have done a quick inventory with the rest of their pet cronies and found that whenever Colleen had the diamonds in her possession, the count came up one short. They ransacked my compound and didn't find them. The next logical place for them would have been her daughter."

Sam reached in to touch the diamonds, but pulled back as she comprehended the shear enormity of the situation. "These must be worth…"

"Millions," Bob answered for her. "Many, many millions. What's almost worse is that she crossed them and in their demented minds, someone has to pay."

"But… Bob," Carter started as he sorted out the information, "I understand your connection to this Ellington guy - your CIA superior, but how do you know Arkwright? How would you, as an agent with the CIA, know this guy who is Mr. Corporate America, especially since you've spent most of your career in the Middle East."

"Wait," Anna said putting her hands on her head, "I'm confused here."

"You're not the only one," Luka agreed.

Bob sighed. "Okay. Here we go. Cliff notes version: there are four players here besides Jules who's dead. Look at this picture taken the night that Colleen and Jules died. I assume by the way these pictures were taken off kilter that she wasn't taking them with this camera as part of her agreed upon publicity. She was probably told not to take pictures of these guys _at all_. That's why only one media person was allowed by Jules. I can only suspect that she took them as part of her insurance program to save her ass should anyone catch on." Bob tossed the empty beer bottle in the garbage and retrieved another cold one. "Two people on each side of Jules. Two Americans, two Africans. What we've pieced together is a couple years ago or so Kovac had contact with the Rwandan doctor at a refugee camp in Macedonia. He convinces Kovac to volunteer at a clinic in Ikela. About the same time, Jules fronted money for that clinic to stay open with the understanding, I assume, that doctors would volunteer to the Alliance specifically for that clinic. Right Kovac?"

Luka nodded and leaned back in his chair with the knowledge that Jules' mind games with him began a long time ago, thousands of miles away. "An excuse for his people to be there. Those families covered for Jules and his men and we were the reason the government turned a blind eye. They trusted us."

"Fast forward to last year in Ikela. You two were working diligently at the clinic. Unbeknownst to you, on Jules' people for the most part. When it became too unstable to run the diamonds through there, the clinic had to shut down. Carter's wealth is well known and this is when Jules fell back on his original occupation: kidnapping westerners for ransom. Some hobbies you just can't give up." Carter squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and raked his hands through his hair. "This whole time my superior, Ellington, had me set up in Uganda believing, as I had for the previous couple years, that terrorists I had uncovered in the Middle Aast were after me and my family, and Uganda was the safest place. Now I know they had other reasons to keep my mouth shut."

"What reasons?" Carter asked.

Bob wasn't telling all and shook his head at Carter before continuing on his terms. "He and Jules together with mystery American number two, Arkwright, were fencing smuggled diamonds possibly by that time with the help of Colleen. Carter family pays up, Bongala under the guise of the UN transfers ransom to Jules and escorts you two out of the country. The only wrench in this well oiled machine is your reappearance three months later in Pakwach. Jules sends Colleen to keep you at bay and help herself to some drugs. You meet Bongala again, Carter, when you and Colleen cross the border. She used you there to get close to Emile - Jules' nemesis. Bongala then escorted you back to Uganda to keep her pretty little ass and diamonds she was smuggling safe. But that last night they were all together - these four and Jules - something big was supposed to happen."

"Well it did," Carter answered, finishing a beer and putting his hand out to Bob as he attempted to replace the empty bottle with a new one. "One's enough. My yearly allotment."

"My, my - how my Colleen got herself mixed up in such dirty deeds."

"Bob," Luka interrupted, "That third piece to the puzzle. What is it? And is there more to this CIA Ellington guy?"

"Daddy," a small voice inquired, echoing among the beams of the cathedral ceiling, "was Mommy really like that?" Amanda was at the top of the stairs in a short purple nightgown, one hand on the banister, the other playing with a lock of red hair.

As Bob's hard edge camouflaged by years of pretending, acting and professional misinterpretation softened, he let out a sigh of defeat only his daughter could impose.

"Come on Luka," Sam encouraged, her arm on his shoulder, "let's go play Blood Sugar Bingo."

"We'll, um, go take a walk on the beach." Anna made eyes at Carter, the testosterone, as usual, slow to pick up on the hint.

"Don't go far," Bob alerted them. "I only have one surveillance team left and they're in that boat just off shore."

"Thought you guys traveled in packs," Carter joked.

"Well the current administration took care of that, and in their wise youth cut resources in intelligence. Paying off, eh? Besides I suspect that by now Ellington has painted me to be a turncoat within the guts of the agency."

Sam hung back on the first landing not so innocently listening in on Bob and Amanda.

"Come here, Princess," Bob said, holding his arm out to Amanda to sit on his lap. "Your mother loved you very, very much. What she did on the job never changed that."

"Did she really help the bad guys?"

"I'm afraid so, but we don't know everything yet. She did a lot of wonderful things for you and me, for our country and people of the world. I don't know how or why she got involved with these people, and we may never know."

"Is that why you got divorced?"

"No, baby. Sometimes two people can love each other very much - so much that it hurts," he said, bringing his hand to his chest, "but they just can't seem to live together."

"So you loved her, even after you were divorced?"

"Of course I did, and she loved me - in her own way. Our magical love is what created you, and we wouldn't have traded that for anything." Amanda wrapped her arms around her father and held him tight - tighter than he held her, if that was possible. "You did a good thing, Princess, by telling me about those pictures. I'm sorry you had to learn about your mom like that, but by showing the faces of those men to me, you helped solve a mystery I've been working on for years." Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a play coin. "I want you to have this. A friend of ours in Africa named Mbuto gave it to me a couple months ago after I helped get some injured refugees to the camp. It's something you give to someone who has done a good deed, and you've done just that. Hold onto it, okay?" She nodded and smiled, then gave him a kiss on the forehead as he had done to her so many times before. "Now, get to bed." As Bob watched his daughter go down the stairs to her bedroom, he caught sight of Sam on the staircase. Throwing his head back and stretching his neck in several directions, he sighed. "That was fun."

Sam smiled at him as she went to the kitchen.

"Eaves dropping?"

"Lot to this, huh?" she asked, slightly mocking his earlier snipe.

"What?"

"Kids." She winked and got a glass of juice from the refrigerator before heading back downstairs herself.  
----------

The moonlight hovering above the ocean cast a haze around Anna's silhouette, her strapless summer dress casting an outline of her voluptuous form. As Carter came up behind her on the beach, a breeze swept her blond hair across her back and laid it gently over her tanned shoulder. He had to stop short to keep from caressing the bare back of her neck with his hand - to replace his hand with his lips. His eyes flew back open with the returning wayward ocean breeze as the tips of her hair stroked across his face - he was _that _close.

"Cold?" he asked, taking her sweater he stopped to grab from a hook by the carport door and draping it across her shoulders.

"Thanks. I love being down here at night. Nice to be alone in my thoughts."

"Even with those guys out there watching you?" Carter asked, nodding out towards the small boat anchored off shore. "And they're probably not alone."

"Mmm. Thanks for reminding me."

The two stood next to each other, Anna holding her sweater at the shoulders, Carter with his hands in his pockets.

"If you want to be alone I can find something else to do," he finally said. "I don't want to intrude on your… thoughts."

"That's okay. I'm thinking about you."

_(Song lyrics omitted. Original chapter can be found at LUKAFIC)_

"That's what I was worried about." Carter instinctively distanced himself from Anna and walked towards the surf, bending down and grabbing a handful of tiny shells that had appeared at low tide. One by one he threw them far back into the ocean, the crash of the surf covering up any splash they may have made.

Anna slipped her arms into the sweater and crossed them in front of her to keep the cool breeze from peeking through the light fabric of her sundress. "You know, you don't have to tell me anything. You don't owe me explanations."

"You already know a little of everything," he said putting his hand back down into the sand for more ammunition. "Aren't you curious about the details?"

"Doesn't mean I expect you to tell me."

Carter threw the whole fist full of shells and sand deep into a breaking wave, putting his whole body behind it, not really hearing Anna's answer - maybe not wanting to. "I got the victim thing going - a standing appointment with a shrink, and _meds_," he tried to humorously poke fun at. "That's enough to scare anyone away."

"Not me."

"Scars from the stabbing, addiction to pain pills, members of my family gone - either dead or hiding from reality in some far off location. Kidnapped and tortured in the Congo by the most feared war lord in Africa - more scars. I'm responsible for Todd's death, maybe Joseph's, Sean's… It's partly my fault that Jules was replaced by someone even more evil than him. And if it weren't for Bob I probably would have pulled the trigger myself on Jules. Didn't think I was capable of that, did you?"

"Everybody has scars, John. You can't always see them."

"Yeah? You should see mine."

Anna wanted so much to put her arms around him, to let him know he wasn't alone, to let him know that he was loved, but drew them back in afraid she'd push him away. "When I woke up this morning you were sleeping on the chaise. How come you got out of bed? We only talked… we didn't..."

"I can't…" He turned and looked at her in the face, her eyes shining, her satiny skin looking so chaste. As she reached up and pulled an errant strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, Carter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. To taint her with those damn details would plant seeds of fear and suspicion in her head. Or so he thought. "Good night," he gave her as he turned around and walked up the stairs, his white button down shirt untucked and flapping in the night breeze, the moonlight just once bouncing off the ridges of a shiny scar for a scant moment.

_Those aren't the scars that define his pain anymore,_ she thought.

_(Song lyrics omitted. Original chapter can be found at LUKAFIC)_

Everyone had gone to bed, the trip up the stairs to the top level dark and silent. Carter padded his way through to the kitchen, the ceramic tile cold on his bare feet. The light from the refrigerator blinded him for a second as he opened the door and mindlessly looked through for a snack, but what he really wanted wasn't in there.

"The stronger stuff is usually kept in a decanter," a voice called out from the very dark living room. "I've looked everywhere but can't find anything stronger than mouthwash."

"Everyone's in bed, Bob," Carter answered no longer startled by Bob's sudden appearances. "Might as well join them."

"No thanks. Got work to do."

Carter closed the refrigerator door, beer in hand. It was cold, easy to drink, and so tempting, but back in it went as rational thought kicked in.

"What aren't you telling us?" Carter asked as he went to the large windows and watched Anna walk back up the boardwalk towards the house.

"Plenty - and nothing. A game of hide and seek," he riddled. "That's what undercover intelligence is: hide and seek."

"No, actually, that's life."

"But like tic-tac-toe there's never a winner, is there?" Bob threw open a sliding door and stood in the thresh hold to smoke a cigarette. "Gotta tell you, Tut, Emile Dia Wamba isn't who you think he is."

"I know. I watch the news."

"You watch Arkwright's news. Dia Wamba is just what Congo needs. He's not a bad guy, at least to the world. He and his people are native to Congo. They protect the legitimate diamond trade and make sure that a good portion of the money goes to rebuilding their country and educating the children."

"But he was in Darfur -"

" -Ahh, _cunt cranking bullshit_. Arkwright spits out a memo and it becomes '_news'_. Dia Wamba in power is counter productive to his little diamond hustling business. It's a tightly controlled industry with the mines excavated by only a few government approved corporations, none of which are Arkwright owned, or even owned by westerners. He'd do anything to discredit Dia Wamba with the international community. Easier to over throw him that way. _You _actually did us a favor."

"Somehow I don't feel like it."

"There's never a winner, remember? Welcome to _my _world."

Carter went back down to the second level and paused on the landing, Luka's and Sam's voices together in her room giving him a half smile. He sat on his bed and turned the TV on, flipping through the channels not really paying attention but getting a chuckle out of the call letters for the one local TV news channel: WAVY. He turned it off and fell backwards on the bed staring up at the ceiling not sure where his head was anymore. Dia Wamba, Jules… Arkwright. How many times had he sat in a board room with him? How many times had they spied each other at a social function but never traded words? That beer… and there were more…

Each step back up the stairs he struggled to re-think his need for that beer. Nobody would know, Bob wouldn't care… At the top of the stairs, though, a light shone under Anna's door. He hadn't even been in that room, hadn't been in Anna's personal space. Pushing the unlatched door open and walking over to her at the large sliding door, Carter was once again standing behind Anna, only this time he reached out to her, tenderly stroking her bare arm from her shoulder to her elbow.

She saw his reflection in the glass but, still, a shiver pierced through her as the tips of his fingers traveled down her arm barely touching her skin. "I… I like to sleep in the fresh air, hear the surf," she explained as though telepathically connecting with Carter as he stiffened slightly at the cool breeze that came through the screen.

"You have a fireplace," he answered, his voice deepening, breathing faster.

"Gas. I like to lie down on the shag carpet there and read sometimes," she said still with her back to him.

Carter leaned forward and gently kissed the back of her neck, then reached around and, with his hand on her chest just below her neck, pulled her into him allowing his lips to reach further to her ear, down the side of her neck pausing as he lingered on her pounding pulse. His hands met hers at her waist and he intertwined their fingers forcing them to remain tightly joined at the hips. But as he opened his eyes and looked ahead out that window, the small light off shore reminded him of their situation. "I'll answer any question you have. Tell you anything -"

" -Shhh." Turning around quickly, Anna put a finger to his lips, then slowly unzipped her dress down the side of her hip and stepped out of it revealing only a slim pair of white panties atop her soft curves.

"I can't," he tried to say between kisses. "It's been a long time…"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how," she teased.

"Um… not really." Her hands slid up the front of his shirt and taunted his nipples, playfully stroking them until he laughed. "Really ticklish. _Really_."

She laughed along with him and tried to unbutton the shirt, finally letting him take the quick route and pull it over his head. The surgery scars from years ago had faded and provided nothing more to her than a dividing line of where to equally place her kisses.

In the cool sea air pushing through the room, her lips felt warm, almost hot, as they raked over his chest down his abdomen where they stayed as she unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to the floor. She stayed on her knees for what seemed like an eternity before finally removing the last of his clothing and letting her lips resume her passion. For John Carter, it was a dream in the making, a lust of mind come to life. His legs finally started to weaken and he moved backwards to the bed sitting down and drawing Anna up on top of him feeling her curvaceous breasts, taut nipples and moist desire through the satin, which he removed with one hand, the other occupied in the depths of her yearning.

The cadence of the surf crashing on shore matched the throes of passion undulating raw and unmasked atop the soft feather mattress and countless pillows. They lost track of time through the night as the moon shone first in front of the window, then traveled far to the right out of sight. Exhausted, Carter rolled onto the bed, face down, and moaned as his back cramped up on him, unaware that this was the first time Anna was seeing his severely scarred back from the kidnapping of the previous year. "No, it doesn't hurt."

"Yeah - I wouldn't think so."

"Sorry - seems to be the question of choice when someone sees it."

"Numb?"

"Here and there. Sometimes the tingling drives me crazy," he said into the pillow. "I miss the people at the camp, the freedom I had to just practice medicine and basic human kindness without first having to fill out a form in triplicate and get someone else's approval."

"Why don't you go back?" she asked as she softly stroked his sore back.

"Once naïve, twice stupid, third time would be foolish."

"Jules is dead."

"Too many bad dreams." Carter drifted off to sleep with Anna draped over him, their naked bodies exuding the lingering heat of passion.

_(Song lyrics omitted. Original chapter can be found at LUKAFIC)_

The early morning sun was just breaking the darkness when Carter awoke on the shag carpet in front of the fireplace where he had secretly retreated to during the night with his pillow, but he wasn't alone. Anna fit perfectly as they spooned, her hair smelling sweet under his nose. Giving her ear a loving nip, Carter closed his eyes, forgetting why he was even there.

"You woke up once last night," Anna whispered, "or maybe didn't actually wake up. Cried out kind of."

"Did I hurt you?" he finally asked back.

"What? Of course not. Why would you?"

"These dreams are so real. I've done things to a couple people in my sleep… hurt them…"

"You didn't hurt me, John." Turning on her other side, Anna kissed him on the lips and cradled his face in her hands, gently wiping away a stray lone tear with her thumb. "We just woke up together and you didn't hurt me."

_(Song lyrics omitted. Original chapter can be found at LUKAFIC)_

The blinds against the wall of glass and sliding doors rattled in the wind waking Carter from a deep sleep. He squinted against the rude morning sun, comforted by Anna's soft, exposed form still in his arms. Rubbing his eyes, he soon realized they weren't quite alone.

_

* * *

Lyrics, How Love Should Be  
Chris Botti CD, When I Fall in Love  
_(omitted from _**fanfiction**_ site as per guidelines) 


	23. Chapter 23 Humiliation

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

The blinds against the wall of glass and sliding doors rattled in the wind waking Carter from a deep sleep. He squinted against the rude morning sun, comforted by Anna's soft, exposed form still in his arms. Rubbing his eyes, he soon realized they weren't quite alone.

"Didn't take you long to play booty tag." The voice, while unexpected, was not entirely strange. "Geez Carter, you could at least be humping hide with someone a little closer to your kind of people."

"What's going on?" a sleepy Anna asked as she focused her eyes above through the starchy yellow glow of daylight. The figure was tall, but not too tall. The hair, outline of his form, all familiar.

Carter protectively secured the sheet over her exposed body and moved closer to Anna on the floor putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her into him. "Got company," he whispered.

"What? Who…" Anna sat up straighter and held the sheet just above her breasts. "What are you doing here? Get out, Max."

"Now, Anna, you know the marriage counselor said you needed to _not _push me away."

"She also said that out of all the couples she's worked with, we were only one of three she recommended get divorced as soon as possible."

He leaned against the armoire almost as a necessity. "That's not what she meant," he said with his eyes at half mast.

"Oh, god, he's high. What are you on this time, Max?"

"Leave, Max," Carter warned, "before we call the police."

The intruder smirked, then laughed as he rubbed the side of his face before sitting down on the end of the bed. "Are we back to that again?" More smirking, his nose seemed irritated, then Max's mood spun harshly. With one of his booted feet pressing on Carter's hip, he leaned over and spoke quietly, but directly to the couple. "You didn't impress me when I met you the first time in Chicago all those years ago, John Boy, and you're even more laughable now."

"Anna's not laughing," Carter shot back, but only to Max's consternation as he shoved Carter hard enough to nearly flip him over.

"Stop it, Max," Anna yelled. "Get out. Don't you have any respect for me at all? There are children in this house -"

" -Certainly didn't stop you two perverts."

"How did you even get in here?" she asked.

"You love the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves when you sleep. Right? What a fool. God damn sliding door was wide open."

"That's enough." Carter stood up and, totally naked, grabbed his pants from the bathroom floor and stepped into them intent on throwing Anna's ex out of the house for good.

"See, this is where it gets a little tricky," Max said as he reached behind him and pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants. "I need you to do something for me." He waved the gun around as he spoke, then as Carter began to bend over and retrieve his shirt, Max not so carelessly pointed the gun right at him prompting him to straighten up sans shirt. "Go open the front door, Anna, and I'll keep your _wittle boyfwiend _company."

Carter put his hands out in front of him as if to deflect any bullets that might happen to escape from the barrel of the gun, while simultaneously looking back and forth from Anna to Max. "This really isn't necessary." He tried to think of something better to say, but somehow that was all he could muster.

"Actually, it is."

"Max, look out that window," Carter said as he pointed out towards the shore, his hands still instinctively in front of him. "There's a boat off shore with federal agents watching us _right now_. They're there to protect us."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"Just look, Max," Anna pleaded.

"I don't have to. I know. Maybe _you _should look." The three remained in place, none making a move. "Go on. It's a clear day, you can see forever," he gave with a sickening joviality as he waved Carter over to the sliding doors with the gun.

"John?" Anna stayed on the floor covered only by the sheet. He stayed at the window too long to just be taking a quick look. "What is it, John?"

"_What is it, John_?" Max mocked with a feminine squeal to his voice, his face holding back the enjoyment he was obviously getting from it all.

"They've moved," Carter said quietly.

"Probably docked in Norfolk by now." Max walked over to Carter and shoved the end of the gun under his chin forcing his head back. "You assume I'm a fuck-up, don't you? Well, think again. The boat wasn't your secret. Your friends aren't as safe as you think and if you don't do what I say, not only will I give you an instant GCS of zero, I'm afraid that your friends will be shark bait."

"Anna, go open the door," Carter said, fearful of moving, his voice not so steady.

Gathering the sheet around her, Anna stood up and started for the door.

"Uh, uh, uh," he sang, "come on baby, put some clothes on." Opening her dresser drawer, Max pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. "Right here. Take your time. You always turned me on the way you got dressed." As Anna reached over to open another drawer, Max beat her to it and slammed it shut. "Underwear? Now, that's no fun. All those panty lines and straps ruin a good fantasy, don't they Carter?"

Max leaned into Anna and slowly slipped the barrel of the gun under the sheet wrapped and tucked into her bosom. With his other hand he pulled the sheet away and let it fall to the floor, then slowly traveled the gun down her cleavage then onto her right breast, tracing the lines of her areola, all the while Anna stood motionless, her anger seething through her flaring nostrils.

"Stop it," Carter demanded, "**Stop**!" This time he shouted and made a move in their direction.

Even though his eyes were still on Anna, his gun fondling her breast, Max reached out with his free hand and very skillfully grabbed at Carter's neck. All of Carter's strength couldn't pry Max's hand from his throat and as his grip tightened, Carter's oxygen level decreased.

"Better hurry up baby," Max warned pushing Carter back to the floor by the neck and redirecting the gun to his head, "as soon as you open that door I'll let lover boy breath again. I'd say we have three minutes before serious brain damage sets in, and no matter how many Viagra you give him, it won't give a vegetable a hard-on."

Seeing Carter's eyes bug out, his face darken as he struggled to breath, Anna raced from the room, down the stairs to the main landing, but before unlocking the door she reached over and flipped the switch Bob had installed for the security system. She cracked the door open and ran back up the stairs to her room not even stopping to look for the others.

"Anna…?" Bob called out as he came around the corner from the kitchen area.

"Don't worry baby," Max gave her in a hauntingly calm voice, "you had another couple minutes to go. Man, you're speedy." Letting go of Carter's neck, his hand print well ingrained into the skin, Max backed off and let Anna tend to him.

"John?" she called to him as he lay on his back. His arms were limp and eyes closed, but his chest hungrily heaved in the air once, then after a moment one more time. "_John_?" Anna roughly rubbed his sternum with her fist as she would any unconscious patient. She leaned over and tilted her ear next to his mouth to listen for breaths, then felt for a carotid pulse as Carter started to sputter and toss his head around. "_You son of a bitch_," she cursed at Max as she attempted, but failed, to keep her tears at bay.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts, his senses mixed up - nothing seemed logical to him. Carter struggled to get a breath and tossed his head back and forth to try and get the burlap bag to loosen up. The jungle air was thick, his chest felt tight, and the fear rampant. There was a gun, yes, he remembered that. He was held tightly, knocked down and now hands were on his chest, neck and face.

"Anna?" Bob asked as he came around the corner into her room. "What's going on?" Carter was on the floor, not quite conscious with Anna at his side. But before Bob could react to Max and the gun he was sporting, he felt the all too obvious sensation of another gun barrel tightly hugging the back of his head.

"You're getting sloppy old man," the new voice smoothly spoke. "Losing your touch."

"Thought I taught you better than that, Ellington."

"Taught me so well they let me be your boss."

He needed to come up for air but Carter felt like she was smothering him. He could smell her shampoo, the freshness of her femininity, and felt the soft curves of her skin. But he knew that there was something else she was there to do…

"_Colleen_." By the time Carter reached up and grabbed Anna's arm, he was breathing evenly again. He was dizzy and queasy, but after a quick replay of the past twenty four hours he soon realized where he was and what had happened.

"No, John. It's me, Anna."

"Holy shit," Max laughed, "didn't take long after the old bump and grind for him to forget your name, baby. How's it feel?"

"_Anna_?" Carter's eyes flew open as he remembered what Max had been doing to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but what about you?"

"Hello? Can you two get your hands off each other long enough to pay attention to the two guns in this room?" Max was cocky, almost too self assured. Over confidence - a trademark of certain elicit drugs.

"Let's take this party out to the living room, shall we?" Ellington was over confident in another way. A way that grows from ingenuity and success. "I understand the view from there is _outstanding_. But first," he said shoving Bob hard against the wall, "a little game of _pat down and find the hidden weapons_." With the gun pointed at Bob's back, Ellington started to frisk Bob but stopped after seeing Max's eyes glued to Anna. "My hands seem to be occupied. I'll need the little lady to step in and give me a hand."

"I will," Carter quickly offered trying to get to his feet.

"No, I don't think so." Ellington easily pushed Carter back on his ass with his foot. "I think we'd all like Anna to do the honors. I'll tell her just where to put her hands. It's probably been quite a while since a pretty girl had her long fingers on Bob's, shall we say, physique."

Anna was slow to walk over to where Bob was standing, and startled when Ellington shoved a knee into the small of Bob's back forcing him to be firmly pasted against the wall.

"Hands up under his shirt first, sweetheart. Feel around - don't miss anything."

She did as she was asked and pretended in some small way to be examining a patient, in a weird sort of way. Her hands slipped up under his shirt and felt Bob's bare skin around the front, then up over the shoulders, then finally the small of his back where she felt something and pulled back.

"What is it?" Ellington asked.

"A gun," she stuttered. "I, um, think it's a gun."

"Well, good girl," he relished. "Go ahead, take it out and give it to me."

She pulled the pistol out of his waistband by the handle and, noticing Max's gun pointed straight at Carter, handed the weapon over.

"Now the pants."

She felt down his left leg like she had seen cops do in the movies and, again, paused when she felt something odd just above his ankle, only this time she didn't ask what to do. Yanking his pant leg up she saw another holstered pistol - a small one, and gave it to Ellington. She found a large knife strapped to his right leg in the same place and took that from him as well. Standing up, she amazed herself at the hardware Bob had secreted away on his body.

"Not done yet," Ellington whispered while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with the barrel of his gun. "See, spies like Bob always put things where they are _least _likely to be found. Now, where do you think that would be, hmm?"

"You have everything," Bob managed to get from the side of his mouth. He could almost taste the paint on the wall. "Leave her alone."

"And I should trust you?"

"Go on, Anna," Max ordered with a grin, "see what else he has hidden away." His eyes were glazed over, his words slightly slurred. "Maybe it's a real _big _gun."

"Give Bob a good exam, now, Dr. Anna," Ellington whispered not so quietly. "When it's all over you can give him a sucker."

"Anna, don't." Carter finally got to his feet, and although still a bit shaky, managed to get to her and grab her hand. "He can do it himself."

"Maybe I can," Ellington finally spoke up, "but I think Max here is enjoying the show, and I do owe him that at least." Taking Bob's double edged knife from its sheath, Ellington handed it to Max who gladly accepted it.

After admiring both sides and slowly dragging the tip across a pillow easily slicing it open, Max then rested it against Carter's bare back, admiring the scars and tracing them with the cold, heavy metal. "Didn't think you two were into the kinky stuff already," he snarled as he scraped the scars planted by Jules' men.

This gave Ellington a belly laugh who then turned his attention back to Anna. "Sweetheart, I'd do as I was told if I were you."

She looked apologetically at Bob who seemed to tell her with his eyes that it would be alright, then nodded vaguely. She took a deep breath and let it out all at once as she closed her eyes momentarily before slipping her hand down the front of Bob's pants. She kept her fingers from his private areas as best as she could and tried to stick just to the pelvis.

"Both sides, babe," Max told her with dirty exhilaration.

"Nothing," she blurted out with relief as she took her hand out of his pants.

"Sorry to hear that Bob," Ellington laughed as he turned Bob back around and went through his pockets. "Always knew you were the agency's resident eunuch."

After marching the three of them out to the living room and putting them side by side on the sofa, Max and Ellington retreated to the other end of the room to talk.

"I'm sorry Bob," Anna quietly offered, "I didn't…"

"He didn't do it for my benefit. It was all a show for you." Bob felt as though somehow he was responsible for losing the first game of a lifelong winning streak. "Humiliation is the first step in breaking people down. I'm fine. I've had worse done to me. Whatever you do, don't let him get to you."

Their attention was immediately drawn to the staircase when they heard the front door open and a rush of feet on the stairs.

"Hey El," one of the strange men said, "we lost them."

"How the hell does that happen? You've tailed experienced terrorists through the streets of Madrid and Beirut. How the hell do you lose two civies and a couple kids in North Carolina?"

"Some old lady in an orange car pulled right out in front of us. She was all over the road. Before we knew it, they were gone."

"You fucks… these are barrier islands. They couldn't have gone far. Get out there and don't come back until you find them."

"Where's Luka and Sam?" Carter whispered to Bob.

"I sent them on their way. I slept out on the deck. When I woke up, the boat -my men - were gone. It was beginning to stink so I got them the hell out of here."

"Talking about our friends, Bob?" Ellington asked as he spied the three captives talking.

"Look a little frazzled, _El_."

"Where'd your friends go?"

"I don't know. Sightseeing maybe."

"Like you'd let them out of your sight. We'll find them and if you don't give me what you know I'm looking for, I may have to liberate you of your daughter."

"We've known each other a long time, Ellington, you don't have it in you."

"I may, for the right price." Ellington stood and walked in back of the sofa. He reached around and gently placed his hand on Anna's throat, his fingers caressing the ridges of her trachea. "I was going to send Max on - a job well done. But it seems I'm going to be needing him a little bit longer. Nothing like a happy reunion, dear, is there?" He sensed her tension and continued to play off it, his face leaning right in between Anna and Carter. "You and your friend here had quite a night. Was it good for you? It was for me, and I think Max particularly enjoyed it."

With that, Carter barreled over the back of the sofa and attempted to tackle Ellington only to find that he was undersized and out matched. Knowing Carter's history, the larger man flipped him onto his stomach, pulled his arms back as far as they could go and kneed hard into the small of his back getting just what he wanted - painful groans, though muffled by the force of his face in the floor. "Try that again," he angrily spit through gritted teeth, "and you'll see what can happen to women who don't cooperate, and it ain't pretty. Get him in a chair, Max, and tie him as tight as your incoherent self can manage."  
---------

"I don't know, Sam." Luka took the curves as tight as he could without flipping the SUV. "We got rid of that one tail and now I think there's another. Hold on…" The following car tapped the corner of his rear bumper just enough that Luka overcompensated and dove-tailed into a parking lot entrance, the tailing car cutting him off completely. "Everyone okay? Just keep quiet and don't do anything unless I tell you to." The two kids stayed quiet - unusually quiet - in the back seat. "What the hell…?"

"Follow me dear, and you'll be alright."

"Mrs. Bernard," Sam asked as the little old lady spoke to them through Luka's open window, "was that you?"

"You betcha… No time to waste though." Mrs. Bernard clapped her hands as though rounding up a kindergarten class on the playground. "Come on. Toot sweet." Her steps were short but quick as she got back to her little orange Chevette and drove out of the lot, Luka close behind.

"That old lady sure can drive," Alex nearly shouted. "Bet she could show you a thing or two, Luka."

"I'll show you a thing or two myself if you don't keep quiet," Sam scolded. "Geesh, let the man drive."

Finally they got to a recreational rental store where they both parked. After Mrs. Bernard talked to a man off to the side, she motioned for Luka and the others to get out of their SUV.

"It'll be a tight fit, but we can do it. Come on, in my car." She didn't wait for questions or protests - instead she opened the passenger door then walked to her side and confidently got behind the wheel. When no one got in with her she stepped out once again and looked over the roof - _barely_. "Now, you can stand here and wait for those bad asses to catch up to you, or you can take a ride with me. It's up to you. Personally, I think my bite is less painful."

Alex and Amanda were the first to get in after meeting eyes briefly. Pain spoke volumes to them. Luka and Sam were less than eager to trust this woman but eventually let their gut instincts guide them straight into the orange car. Poor Luka's knees wouldn't be the same.

"Your under whelming enthusiasm is truly inspirational," the lady sarcastically spouted as she handily backed out onto the highway.

"Hey," Alex shouted giddily, "you peeled out! I didn't know you could burn rubber on a car like this."

"**_Alex_**," Sam scolded.

"Oh, now dear, he's got spirit. Don't ever smother a child's spirit. That's what will make him a man." She paused before catching a glimpse of the kids in her rear view mirror. "Don't underestimate this old jalopy, Alex. Besides, it's not the car that does the tricks - it's the person at the controls." Sam caught the wink she and Alex shared and let it go.

"Mrs. Bernard," Luka started, uncomfortable in more ways than one, "what is going on here?"

"I suspect that Bob was minutes ahead of the men looking for you and felt that they were about to move in. Looks like he was right because that black van back there was trying to tail you."

"Where are we going now?" Sam asked.

"Where they would least expect to find you," she said as she stepped on the gas. "My house."

Mrs. Bernard pulled around to the back of the house where they could exit the car out of sight of Anna's house. Once inside the house, she directed them all the way upstairs to a small cubicle known as a widow's walk. "This is where a wife in the 1800's would have stood waiting for her husband's fishing boat to get back to shore. But it's not the water I've been watching." Removing several books from a shelf, she exposed a bank of TV screens all showing different angles of the exterior of Anna's house.

"Cool," Alex predictably shot off.

"I bet you don't look at the stars with that telescope either," Amanda surmised.

"Well, sometimes I do," the elder lady chuckled, "but lately the only stars I've been watching is you two." Putting her frail arms around the shoulders of the two kids, she gave them a big squeeze, easily and eagerly reciprocated.

Luka had been cautious, his arms crossed in front of him, hand nervously rubbing at his mouth - but for a moment as the children formed a bond with this seemingly fragile old lady, albeit a stranger, he relaxed and shared a smile with Sam.

"That's right you two," Mrs. Bernard said to the two adults, "don't ever forget to smile. My late husband, Henri, used to tell me that with every smile you add a day to your life. Once when we were penned down inside a shelled building outside Paris during the war, we thought that was going to be the end for us. We had SS soldiers looking for us on one side, German foot soldiers on the other but you know what Henri said to me?" Her voice had become quieter as she stole her audience of four into her world. All four shook their heads. "He said, _show me that beautiful smile of yours, I'll show you mine and we'll love each other for two more days_." Even the children understood, though the silence may have told otherwise. "Okay, now, we have some serious work to do. That calls for cookies and I happen to have a fresh batch of snicker doodles down in the kitchen."

As Sam scooted the kids down the few steps to the upper level where the living room and kitchen opened up to each other, Luka hung back and focused on the screens looking for some indication of who was at the house. Looking into the telescope and focusing on the upper windows, he scanned them one at a time hoping to find answers.

"What are you looking for dear?" Mrs. Bernard's touch was warm as her hand rested on Luka's back almost lovingly.

"I don't know. Carter. Anna. Bob."

"I know _that_. But what are _you _looking for?"

Luka stepped back and resumed his face rubbing, lip biting routine of no answers.

"It's right in here," she said poking her finger into his chest. "You can look inside yourself but you'll never find it. Only someone you love, someone you trust can find what you've lost, but you have to accept it from that person." Her eyes were a silver blue and as Luka finally looked her in the eyes, he felt oddly at home. "Trust Samantha. Let her in." She continued to hold that connection with his eyes and he with hers until she nodded and smiled and he, almost reflexively, returned that nod. "Smile…"As she turned to go downstairs she noticed that Luka was not leaving his station so she went back to him once more, this time taking the telescope from him and easily finding her target. She rested her hand on his arm, suddenly serious, and backed off to let him take a look.

"_Sranje_!"


	24. Chapter 24 A Wise Man Flatters the Fool

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"You know what we're looking for, don't you Dr. DelAmico." He was smug, collected and too comfortable in his role for Anna not to be rattled, but she was committed to not letting him see it. Ellington moved around her at the sink as she tried to prepare some sort of afternoon meal for him and Max. She hadn't been shopping and prayed to find enough edible food to at least manage something that passed for a meal.

"I know I'm busy trying to get something for you to eat," she managed to answer.

"See, that's where you ladies belong," he seethed, "in the kitchen, barefoot and…Your little weak kneed boyfriend hasn't gone and knocked you up already, has he? I mean, it would complete the picture, but," the back of his hand trailed from her waist down her hip and rested on her bare thigh, "it would be a shame to ruin such a delectable figure."

Anna froze up and took a breath as she closed her eyes then walked away from him to the kitchen island where took some fruits and vegetables from the basket trying as hard as she could to appear unaffected by his games. He couldn't do anything for her, but Carter gave as much compassion to her as he could with his eyes. He knew her strengths - she could get through this.

"Hmm." Ellington leaned back against the counter top as Anna washed a tomato. "Now, how about we get back to the matter at hand."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. You see, I believe you all have something that rightfully belongs to me."

"If we did, don't you think we would have given it to you by now?"

"If you didn't, what have they been running away from, and you, pretty lady, why would you be hiding them? And that brings me to the reclusive Bob suddenly appearing in a tourist spot."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's with his daughter - vacationing."

"Mmm hmm. You seem to have all the answers. I know Bob, and Bob's life is all about hiding. He doesn't take a shit without hiding his balls."

As Anna mindlessly took a knife from a drawer and prepared to slice the tomato on a cutting board to her side, Ellington reached around from in back of her and put his hand over hers gripped on the knife perched above the shiny red skin of the fruit. It was only then that Anna realized she had the sharp implement so close…

"Here," he whispered in her ear, his breath moving whisps of hair, "let me help you with that."

She could feel his body as he sandwiched her against the counter and not so innocently ground his pelvis into her backside.

"_Sranje_!" Luka fiddled with the focus and looked again just to be sure. There was that guy Bob told him about, Ellington, at the kitchen window, his body tight up against Anna's. It was clear that Anna had a knife. It was even more clear that Ellington had his hand on Anna's and was bringing that knife up to her face as though she were doing it. And in the background was Carter, bound tightly to a chair, witnessing it all and helpless to do anything. "I can't just stand here."

"Yes, you can," Mrs. Bernard quite assuredly told him, "and you will, at least until I can ascertain conditions, number of suspects and weapons."

"It's just that guy, Anna and Carter."

"That's who you _see_, Luka, but where's Bob? He'd never let this happen if he was able bodied. Look," tilting the telescope just slightly, she directed Luka to look through the eyepiece again, "we know there's one inside with Dr. Carter and Anna. But I've also seen one walking around the deck… Anna's ex husband is there too. And a car with two others has been in and out. "There has to be more and I have to believe that Bob has been incapacitated. We have to work on that assumption."

Luka paused again as he looked through the telescope, relieved that Anna was back to whatever she was doing without a knife to her face. "Just don't tell Amanda."

"No, dear, I wouldn't think of it."

The two stayed there focused on each other. Luka felt oddly at ease with the old lady and sensed that she knew enough of what she was doing for him to follow her lead. She nodded at Luka again as though conveying thoughts before placing her hand on his arm again, her wrinkled, aged skin delicate in the touch. "Come on," she whispered, "you _are _needed downstairs."

"Amanda…," he was unsure how to even start, "… she doesn't -"

"Yes, she does. She needs you, and you need her." Mrs. Bernard knew. Whether by age, occupation or womanly instinct, she knew.

"Hey, Mrs. B.," Alex shouted as he searched the strange house, "got any video games?"

"I think I do," she answered while still connected to Luka's hurting eyes. "If you go all the way down to the ground level in the game room next to the laundry, my niece and nephews have a stash of modern kids entertainment devices they keep here for visits."

"Kids entertainment…? You know all about spy stuff but not video games?"

"Can you spy with one of those contraptions?" she asked the boy.

"Of course not."

"Well, there you go."

Amanda and Alex dashed down the stairs leaving Sam and Luka alone in the kitchen with Mrs. Bernard. It was afternoon, and the thought that it was only a matter of hours before dark haunted them.

"Why can't we just call the police?" Sam asked.

"No, no, Samantha." Mrs. Bernard poured them all cups of strong coffee. "The men have connections all over, especially with the police. All it would take for them is to flash their CIA identification and the police would scamper."

"And we'd put ourselves at risk, I suppose," Luka surmised.

"That's right. Now, if you will excuse me," clearing her mug from the table, Mrs. Bernard opened a drawer and pulled out a granny apron and thick glasses, "I have some surveillance work to do. Stay put and leave those children be. There's nothing in this house that, frankly, wouldn't look better broken. And Luka," she said as she neared the door, "if you could just stand behind this door when I come back, that would be quite helpful."

* * *

**_A fool flatters himself, a wise man flatters the fool_**. _-Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton 1803-1873, British Novelist, Poet

* * *

___

"Got the shakes?" Carter asked as Max paced the living room. "Where's it hurt? Gut? Back?" 

"**_Shut up_**," he screamed, his hands over his ears.

"Didn't plan on spending so much time here, did you?" He was getting on Max's nerves and Carter knew it. "That's okay, you don't have to answer me. I know you, Max. I know you because I've _been _you." Carter's arms were sore, shoulder ligaments stretched and back aching, but being tied in a chair was nothing compared to what he'd endured in Africa. "I know what it's like -"

" -_No… you **don't**_," an irate and frustrated Max yelled, before kicking the chair with Carter in it on its side behind the sofa. "Just shut up."

"Kids, kids…," Ellington made his way over to the ruckus giving Anna a break from his presence in the kitchen. "Play nice now," he said squatting down and looking Carter in the face, "or I'll have to get out the old belt. I understand you have a high tolerance for lashings."

"Hey El," one of the other men said reaching the top of the stairs from the front door, "we got company."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Some old lady. Wants to borrow something from the chick."

Ellington looked at Max for answers who went to the staircase and looked down at the front door sidelights. "That's just old Mrs. Bernard. She lives across the way."

"What should I do, El?"

"Let her in. We don't want to create suspicion. Anna, dear, it's time to be an actress." Ellington threw a comforter over Carter who laid sideways on the floor still strapped to the chair hidden behind the sofa. "One sound from you, Carter, and the old lady will have to be taken care of."

"Anna dear," she called quite loudly as she ascended the staircase, "could I borrow your handy bag of garden tools? The black one…" She appeared quite frail and took the steps one at a time very careful not to lose her grip on the hand rail. "…That one you keep in the closet that's so cute… Oh, I'm sorry dear. I didn't realize you had company."

"That's okay, Mrs. Bernard," Anna answered prompted by Ellington's piercing look, "These are colleagues of mine on the Banks for a medical conference. And you know Max, of course."

"I'm sorry, I don't hear so well anymore. You say you work in a coal mine here on the Banks? We have coal mines? Nobody told me."

"No, Mrs. Bernard," Max reiterated, shouting, "_we're doctors. All doctors_." Turning his attention to Anna, he wrinkled his face with confusion. "When did she become hard of hearing?"

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" Anna said, covering for what she knew was a ruse.

Mrs. Bernard walked forward quite brazenly to Ellington with her hands in front of her as though sight impaired as well. "A room full of handsome, smart men," she tittered. "What kind of doctor are you, young man?" she asked as she patted his chest. "My, you're a tall one. I like them tall," she said, winking at him on the sly.

"I'm a pathologist actually. I specialize in dead people."

"Oh, dear. Well then, I guess it won't be long before you'll be seeing the likes of me," she chuckled. "I don't plan on hitting the triple digits. How about your friend here?" she asked going back to the man who let her in. "What is your specialty?"

"Specialty?"

"What _kind _of doctor are you?"

"Oh, um… pod… pod…footologist. You know… feet, I guess."

"What?" she feigned. "Proctologist?"

"**Podiatrist**," Max quickly and quite irritatingly corrected him.

"Never mind, m'am," Ellington broke up the comedic moment, "what can we do for you?"

"Oh, the bag of gardening tools. Anna, do you still keep it in your closet or is it in here?" she said wandering towards Anna's bedroom.

"No," both Ellington and Max yelled, bringing her to a stop.

"In the hall closet." Anna stepped over to the corner of the room and opened the closet door. With a hunch, she grabbed her medical bag - a plain black backpack - and handed it to the woman. It was her hope that Max was stoned enough not to identify this as being her medical bag even though there were a few bags around the house that were similar to this one. Lucky for her his preoccupation with Carter drew his attention away.

"Oh, thank you. I promise I will get this back to you tonight."

"Take your time," Ellington squeezed out all syrupy, "I don't think Anna is going to be doing any gardening for a while."

"Oh, you're a love. Are you a friend of Anna's?"

"_No, we're doctors_," Ellington's cohort yelled, repeating the entire story. "_I'm a podyolagism…"_

Ellington not so subtly smacked the man in the head on his way to guide the old woman to the door.

"Is that one of those Dysons?" Mrs. Bernard asked excitedly as she peered further into the closet. "I love the man on TV who sells those. Such a smooth British accent." She cozied up to Ellington's side as though to share a secret. "He could put his slippers under my bed any day, if you know what I mean, Max."

"_No, Mrs. Bernard_," Max shouted from behind the sofa, "_I'm Max. Over here_."

With all the shouting and the confusion stirred up by the old lady, Ellington's façade began to fade. "Time to leave Mrs. Bernard. We have plans. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you do. I'll just take the bag… and this vacuum cleaner." She put the bag over her shoulder and dragged the cleaner from the closet putting on quite a show as she shuffled to the top of the stairs with the heavy machine, Ellington right by her side to make sure she left quickly. "You must be Anna's brother. Or was it a cousin she said came to visit?"

"We're doctors…" the other agent began again, oblivious to the fact that the woman's short term memory was shorting out.

"Oh. Is Anna ill?" She paused for a moment before starting down the stairs, the cleaner crashing on each step.

"Let me help you with that," Max offered, before Ellington threw his arm out in distrust.

"No, Max. You have that conference to get ready for. Remember?"

"I'll be fine," the old lady replied, defiant - or so it seemed. "My heart isn't racing like it was this morning. I wonder, will this make much racket when I push it over the boardwalk to my house?"

Ellington pointed his finger at the man who had been walking the second floor balcony outside, the 'podiatrist', and directed him to the door. "I insist that you let my friend here help you out. He's quite the gentleman."

"Oh, well, if you insist, I guess." Finally relenting, she handed the vacuum over to the thug and continued out the door. "Have a lovely time Anna."

"You," Ellington gave the man low enough to be confident that the old lady couldn't hear, "get her out of her and don't bother coming back unless you see something on the beach. You stay back there at the top of the stairs at the dunes. Got it?"  
----------

"What are we supposed to do?" Sam asked finding Luka still against the wall behind the front door where Mrs. Bernard had put him earlier.

Luka shrugged. "Don't know. She's not much for detailed instructions, is she?"

"Maybe we should just take the kids and leave?"

"I left Carter once before on a whim and it nearly got us all killed. We wait," he said putting his arms out and pulling her into his chest, "and take things one step at a time."

Sam let him wrap his long arms around her as she felt the warmth of his chest against her cheek. "Luka?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's that coming up the boardwalk with Mrs. Bernard?"

Luka suddenly pushed Sam away and stood tall against the wall, hoping the bushy fake tree in the corner would hide him from the outside. "Get out, Sam. Upstairs."

"Oh my God, Luka. I can't leave you. Is that one of the guys? What the hell is he carrying."

"Carpet machine?" Luka asked.

"Vacuum cleaner. Why would he…?"

"Doesn't matter, Sam."

"Do I get a fry pan or something?"

Luka couldn't help laugh at Sam, even in the face of potential danger. "No, this isn't a movie. Now go. I'll be okay." She turned on her way up the stairs to look at him one more time. "Go," he whispered with a smile.

The closer they got, the louder their footsteps were, and once at the top of the stairs he could hear the man's voice.

"_You can actually learn a lot about someone by looking at their feet. For instance, did you know that a hammer toe means that someone is retarded? Pardon me, mentally challenged?" _

"_I thought it had to do with those pointed shoes women wear_," Mrs. Bernard answered as she opened the door. Her stockinged leg was the first thing Luka saw, before the man entered the house, his arms heavily occupied by the purple vacuum cleaner. "Imagine that."

Before the man could see him first, Luka tackled him and fell jointly to the hard tile floor. He figured he'd have a long hard fight with the brute but was pleasantly surprised as they tossed around on the floor to find Mrs. Bernard's leg firmly planted on the man's chest stopping the action. She raised the hem of her skirt and removed a gun from a well placed holster on her thigh and pointed it straight down into the flabbergasted man's face.

"_Mrs. Bernard_!" the guy shot out loudly as though still compensating for her 'hearing loss'.

"Make one move," she said in a very firm, unfeebled voice, "and I'll blow you away piece by piece. I'll start with your precious feet. I hear you can tell a lot about someone just from their feet. Now, which foot is your hammer toe on?"

Luka scooted out from under the man and gave the old woman a well earned pat on the back before pulling him to his feet. "I think my friend should get accommodations of his own. What do you think, Mrs. Bernard?"

"I'd be a poor host not to offer him my own room off the dining room upstairs," she said from behind the gun. "Let me show you the way. Here," she said handing Luka Anna's bag, "you might find this useful."

As they went up the stairs, the man being quite cooperative within Luka's grip, Luka did a double take and grinned widely as they passed Sam who was hugging her own bit of wall, knife in one hand, cast iron skillet in the other.  
-----

"Do you think we should go upstairs and see what's going on?" Amanda asked as they stood in the hallway outside the lower level game room trying to figure out what the scuffling was about.

"Nah. Mrs. B. has everything under control." Alex went back into the room and resumed the Nintendo game. "This sucks. Mario Brothers is for babies." He threw the controller down and reclined back into the bean bag chair. "Why don't they tell us anything?"

Amanda had been standing against the door frame leaning against her own hands. "Grown ups have their reasons, I guess."

"They think we're stupid."

"Maybe they're just busy."

"I'm bored," Alex whined as he got to his feet and walked out the door into the hallway. "I'm gonna go back to Anna's house and get my Gameboy."

"_No_, they told us to stay here. They said those bad people are looking for us." She followed Alex right outside through the service door next to the laundry room. "If they see us out there, they'll get us."

"Then stay here, baby," Alex scolded. "You probably can't keep up with me anyway. Girls are so dumb."

Amanda stopped only long enough to realize she felt terribly alone, then broke into a run behind Alex passing him halfway up the boardwalk. Reaching out in front of him, Alex wasn't about to let a girl beat him and decided that maybe cheating was a viable option. He grabbed her by the oversized vest and pulled hard, but he hadn't stopped her and was rewarded only with the prize of the vest as it came off of Amanda. She knew he'd failed in his attempt and laughed, enjoying every bit of his budding male chauvinistic antics. But as she looked up at Anna's house in front of her, she stopped short, Alex obliviously running straight into her."


	25. Chapter 25 More Like What She gave Me

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Alex crashed right into the stalled Amanda. "What the…?"

"**_Shhh_**," she gave him with a demanding look in her eye, then pointed up to the house from the tall bushes they were standing behind. "He doesn't belong here and he _doesn't _look very nice."

From their vantage point they could see right through the sliding doors to the side of the kitchen. The strange man paced back and forth stopping every now and then to say something to Anna who seemed to flinch.

"Nope," Alex concurred, "and Anna's not smiling. I don't think she likes him. What should we do?"

"We have to get back and tell Mrs. B."

"Can't," Alex said elbowing Amanda and nodding towards the entrance to the cul-de-sac. "Someone's coming." A black SUV rounded the corner and looked as though it was heading right for the driveway. The only place the kids could go and not be seen was Anna's house by way of the carport. "Hurry," Alex pleaded in a whisper, "they're coming right up here."

Ducking behind the cluttered fish cleaning table, the two kids nearly gave themselves away when a boogie board fell off with all the commotion. Alex wrinkled his nose at the smell and puffed out his cheeks, his eyes bugging out with the lack of breath. Amanda, on the other hand, clucked at him in disgust and rolled her eyes, totally unimpressed by either the smell or Alex's drama. The two men shuffled over the sand strewn cement pad and walked in the door only to be stopped by Ellington.

"_Again - you come back alone_," the kids heard the man say inside the screen door. "_What's with you fuck-ups_?"

"_We found an SUV with Illinois plates parked at a rental shop at the north end just outside the road leading up to Corova - you have to have 4-wheel drive for access_."

"_Gee, gosh, golly. What could they possibly be doing there I wonder."_

"_Well, they got some real cool wild horses up there, and good fishing -"_

" -_I cannot believe how **stupid **you are." _From under the table the kids could see Ellington slam the screen door against the inside wall in frustration. _"So what are you going to do about this mess?"_

"_The guy there said a man, woman and two kids rented a couple 4-wheelers for three days. Paid in cash. Gave us the receipt, but it might not even be them_."

"_Dr. and Mrs. … **Marcus Welby**? Are you kidding me? Jesus… why aren't you after them_?"

"_Guy said they asked about ferries from up there. They could be on any one of several islands or even the mainland by now_."

"_No credit card? Impossible. Nobody rents without a credit card imprint. You've been had." The kids could smell cigarettes and see the grayish blue smoke as the man inside exhaled his disgust. "I'll tell you what, Starsky and Hutch - I have to chopper out of here tomorrow afternoon. You have twenty-two hours to come up with all four of them or the diamonds. So set the alarm on your digital Mickey Mouse watches for fourteen hundred hours… two o'clock **pm**, dimwits. That's when the sun is **up**, not down. If you're not back here by then with what I want, I'm coming after you personally."_

The black vehicle left the driveway but soon stopped as the one man got out to light a cigar. Then leaning on the closed door - his back to the house -, he took out his cell phone and made a call. Amanda and Alex took advantage of the moment and squeaked out of their tiny hideaway dodging toys still littering the floor and slid between the house and the boardwalk finally hunching down between two dunes among the tall sea oats.

"I saw a gun," Alex whispered, "I think…"

"Nine millimeter automatic," Amanda clarified. "I saw it too."

"How do you know all that?"

"Patient form, impulsive ears. That's what my dad says."

"Huh?" Alex curled his lip, hardly impressed with another of Amanda's boasts.

"I pay attention, dummy. My dad? In the CIA? _Duh_." Her eyes nearly rolled all the way into her head with that one.

"Will you stop that?" Alex turned his attention away from the house and glared at Amanda. "I'm **not **dumb," he said, raising his voice.

"Then stop acting like it." She raised hers to match Alex's volume.

"_You _stop acting like you know everything."

"I do know more than you. My dad is a spy and my mom is a famous journalist..."

"_Was_… your mom **_was _**a journalist. And how good a spy is your father if he's stuck in there with those guys? Huh?"

"At least **_I have _**a father who cares about me."

"Cares enough that he dumps you on me and my mom. And your mother is what made this all happen in the first place. If it weren't for her doing stuff with that Jules guy and being mean and everything to Luka and Dr. Carter I'd be having a great vacation somewhere with my mom - _without you_."

"You're so immature," Amanda snapped back. "Why don't you just leave me alone."

"I should. I should just leave you here all by yourself so the sand fleas can chew on your skinny yucky bones and puke you back up."

"Better yet, why don't both of you come with me."

The two kids stopped the bickering when the intruding voice boomed from above them. Looking up into the bright sky above, they had to shade their eyes with a hand to see first the nine millimeter gun, then the ominous face behind it.

"Oh boy," Alex whispered.

"Welcome home," the man told the kids as he pushed them into the windowless laundry room. "My guess is that you two free range chickens got loose from the farm. Am I right?"

Neither kid was about to say a word and both folded their arms in front of them defiantly.

"Stubborn urchins, aren't you? I don't mean to be rude," he said closing the shuttered doors on them, "but I must go greet my host."

The daylight from the front door window just up the stairs from the basement laundry room filtered in through the slats on the door casting lines of alternating light and shadow on their faces. They only waited a minute before pushing on the hinges, but figured out that the man must have done something to jam the doors shut.  
----------

"Stop looking at him," Max cracked, his voice static with need.

"You can untie him, Max," Anna pleaded as calmly as she could muster, "he's not going to hurt anyone. He really is harmless."

"Max, really. I need to, you know… take a leak," Carter managed.

"I don't care if he's a head of cabbage. That guy, Ellington, is no prize. I wouldn't turn on him. He was supposed to let me leave hours ago."

"In return for what, Max?" Carter spoke up from his seemingly permanent station in the middle of the room. "Pills? Crack? Dust?"

"What - are you going to try to play therapist with me?" he laughed. "The _I know how you feel _bullshit because you read it in a book? What would you know, huh? **What would you know?**" he finally screamed. Max's face turned beet red, the veins bulged from his neck and the tiniest bit of spittle carelessly fell from his lips as he finally composed himself enough to rest the gun barrel under Carter's chin. "You are the last… the _last _person I need to hear from right now. Got it?"

"Sure." Carter wasn't about to argue with an unstable drug addict in the midst of withdrawal holding a gun to his neck.

"I just need to think straight right now, that's all."

"I might be able to help you out with that," Carter quietly mentioned once the gun was a few feet away. He was tempting fate, but it was a risk he was willing to take. "I told you before that I know what it's like to be you. I wasn't trying to be glib, Max." At least he didn't get kicked or shot. Instead, Max sat at the dining room table and slumped his back, exasperated by his life, Carter supposed. "I told you that because…," Carter looked over at Anna who stood against the kitchen counter watching the exchange between her lover and her soon to be ex-husband, knowing exactly what Max was doing to his body, but almost completely clueless about this part of Carter's past, "…because a few years ago after I was nearly killed by a psychotic patient I became addicted to pain meds just like you had years ago." Max scratched his head, shook his head to manage his jitters and chewed at his fingernails. "My cocktail of choice was anything I could mainline. I was ugly and rationalized it all because I was a doctor and knew what I was doing. It was prescribed, in the beginning at least. One pill became two, became four, became a combination. Some to control pain, some to wake me up and energize me, some to get me some sleep. Then the pills weren't enough. I thought I was in control - but I wasn't. Paranoid, manic, delusional at times, sleep deprived, malnourished and unable to see that what I was doing was harmful to me and those around me."

"You're making it up."

"Look at my back. The two long scars on my left flank aren't from my time in Africa. They came from a 6-inch knife. On my wrist, ankle, groin - track marks. I learned from the best working in the ER. All that Narcan I dosed out for OD's paid off because with each one of those I found new and ingenious ways to shoot up without leaving noticeable tracks. Demerol for breakfast, Fentanyl in the afternoon, a little Morphine after dinner… it all worked out. The problem was that it was never enough. Am I right?"

"I don't shoot up."

"Not yet you don't. But you will eventually. Because the pills won't be enough and it's _so _much easier in the vein - and instantaneous. Remember in med school how you wished you had a third hand to do a simple blood draw? Pretty soon you'll surprise yourself at how easy practicing medicine on yourself can be. Look Ma," Carter mocked, "one hand."

"Quit playing with my head." Max rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking.

Anna finally marched over to Carter and worked on the ropes behind the chair.

"Anna, get away from him. _I said_…"

"Oh, shut up Max." Finally wrestling the last of the knots loose, she held up Carter's arms one at a time until she found the faint track marks barely visible under his watch band on his left arm. Before revealing them, she took a moment to let her finger lightly touch them as if to verify their existence. "Look Max. See?"

"That could be from anything," he lamely excused.

Carter lifted his own left leg into the air, a hint of shame involuntarily tainting his mission. Max finally got up from his seat and went over to Carter looking very carefully at similar scars on his ankle. "Want me to pull my pants down too?" Carter asked hoping he wouldn't take the bait. Instead, Max sat on the arm of the sofa next to Carter and Anna, gun unmistakably still in hand. "Now, can I use the bathroom?"

Max paused, took a deep breath and let it out before finally nodding. "But you go in this one off the kitchen and the door stays open."

"Fine. Thank you," he gave him with a snarl before heading off to relieve his very full bladder. Once in the small powder room, his zipper undone and business underway, Anna leaned against the doorframe, her back to Carter.

"Did you really shoot up in your… groin?"

"Did you see any track marks?" he asked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and half smile.

"Wasn't exactly looking." She hoped Max couldn't see her blush, though she knew it showed in her voice. "Well…?"

"Uh… no. Guess I wasn't _that _desperate." A swift zip and wash of the hands gave Carter just enough time to send a curious Max back to the sofa. On his way out of the washroom, Carter put his hand lovingly on the small of Anna's back and gave her a warm, quick kiss. Catching himself as Max turned his attention back to the couple, Carter feigned stiffness and stretched his arms away from Anna. He didn't want to give the unstable, withdrawing drug addict any reason to pull the trigger.

All three looked towards the staircase as footsteps could be heard coming from the lowest level. Carter and Anna hoped it would be Bob. They hadn't seen him since morning.

His gun no longer visible, but noticeable under his yellow polo shirt, the man nodded towards Max. "Everything okay here?"

Max nodded, unsure of this new player but knowing the reputation and hierarchy of the event planners.

"Ellington?"

"Next level down."

Carter stared at the man from across the room much like he had at past high society social functions and various charitable board meetings. Only this time the man's stare wasn't snobbish and elite - it was cold, evil and eerily complacent. "Arkwright…"

The man didn't give him the time of day before turning around with a smirk on his face then headed back to the second level.  
----------

The kids could hear everything from their little prison at the base of the staircase on the ground level. The man's feet went all the way up, and then back down but only one flight stopping at the top of the stairs. The home's décor of marble, granite, and hardwoods lent itself beautifully to the echo chamber effect. As long as doors were left open, the kids had gone to bed at night and heard most of the adults' conversations, TV and music. Now they heard the words spoken between that man and Ellington at the top of the stairs.

"_I come bearing gifts_," the new guy said. "_But seeing as you have presents for me all tied up here, I may just have to wait to give you mine_."

"_He looks good cuffed to the plumbing, doesn't he? I bet our little tart Colleen tied him to all kinds of things_." Their laughter wasn't contagious to the kids.

"_Shut up_," Bob finally managed.

"_Ooh - he talks_!"

"_Colleen could get anyone to talk_," one of them laughed. "_She had some mouth on her, in more ways than one_."

"_The question I have, is the little girl a conniving whore like her mother?"_

"_She's nothing like her mother_," once more from Bob. "_She's a sweet, innocent child. The Colleen you knew, Arkwright, had become a manipulative, hurtful, bitch interested only in fame and money. Which one did you give her_?"

"_It's not what I gave her_," Arkwright sneered in self appeasement, "_more like what **she **gave **me**._"

Alex could see the hurt on Amanda's face as she wrapped her arms around her knees. "I should have thrown sand in his face when I had the chance," he offered, "that's what they do in the movies."

To hear her own father say that about her mother hurt to the core. She squeezed here eyes shut and buried her head in her knees hoping not to hear any more talk from the men upstairs.

"_What did that bitch do with my diamonds_?"

"_I don't have them_."

"_Then you'll tell me who does_."

"_Or what, Arkwright? You'll give my credit report a black mark? Or maybe prevent me from buying stocks when I retire_?"

The footsteps on the stairs resumed in quick fashion this time and in a matter of seconds the laundry room door was yanked open and both kids pulled out roughly by the upper arm and dragged right back up the stairs. There sitting on the floor handcuffed to the plumbing underneath the wet bar was Bob, shocked, to say the least, to see his daughter and Alex held tightly on each side of the now seething Arkwright.

"Let's try this again, Bob. **Where - are - my - diamonds**?"

"Even if I had them, or the children did, we know too much. Isn't that right, El?" Bob stared at Amanda's sunken, hard eyes. She was too strong willed to let her fear show. Bob knew she must have heard the previous conversation about Colleen. She stared right through her father.

"It doesn't matter how much you know." Ellington sat down in a chair opposite Bob and looked down at his face. "If you don't tell me where the diamonds are I may have to relieve you of your burdensome parenting responsibilities."

"You wouldn't," Bob interrupted.

"Who's she to me, after all?"

Bob opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.

"But with an easy hand-over of the diamonds I can safely say you're free to go."

"I'll burn you," Bob scoffed.

Ellington laughed hard at that one. "With what? Far fetched stories? The fact of the matter is you'll stay quiet because with one word, one innocent press release - let's say… oh… an errant leaked memo-, our buddy Arkwright here can blow your cover."

Bob squirmed just slightly, but enough to give Ellington a woody. "Revealing the identity of an undercover intelligence officer is a felony. It threatens national security."

"Which the first amendment protects - freedom of the press and all. Kind of incongruous isn't it Bob? The United States Constitution would protect Arkwright," his CIA colleague snickered. "Now, let's say somehow word gets out about your true identity and occupation. All those people you've pissed off around the world could simply Google your name and pay you back personally. _Ding-dong_, Avon calling."

"Seems that Middle East terror network I uncovered isn't as irritated with me as you led me to believe. So who does that leave? A bunch of alcoholic former Soviet generals trying to sell rotten nukes? They don't even know the iron curtain fell, I doubt they know what Google **_is_**."

Arkwright let the two kids go but stood behind them blocking any sort of exit. "Your two-bit whore of a wife stole from me, from Jules and a whole lot of other people that aren't too pleased with us right now. It's too bad those two doctors got nosey and interrupted a good thing. Between the drug running and her excellent acting prowess, Colleen was just getting warmed up. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before one of her imbecile victims capped the bitch. I'm just surprised it didn't happen between the blowjob and the…"

Without hesitation, Alex turned around, hauled his foot back and plowed it straight into Arkwright's shin.

"_Mother fu…_..." he screamed, bending over and grabbing the now very painful leg.

"That's right," Alex let out, "mother **fucker**. I've been wanting to say that for a long time. You," he said pulling his leg back again and letting it fly on Arkwright's other shin, "are a mother fucker."

"**_Shit…" _**This time the man fell to the floor, though his gun stayed secure in his hand. "Get rid of that kid, Ellington."

"_No_," Amanda screamed putting her arms around Alex's waist. "If he goes, I go, and nobody will get anything."

"I like her." Ellington said to Bob completely indifferent to Arkwright's painful dilemma. "Now _that's _the Colleen I knew."  
----------

Sam nuzzled into Luka's side on the sofa as they caught a quick nap. She could hear his heart beat - a slow, deep-sleep pattern - and used it to quell her into her own snooze. It felt like it had only been moments when she felt a tug at her shoulder from above.

"Ah, young love," Mrs. Bernard reminisced with a wink, "it's a wonderful thing."

"I'm not _that _young," Luka said stretching his arms above his head.

"I am." Sam raised her eyebrows at him waiting for a good come back.

Luka remained on the sofa bringing his arms back down and cradling Sam once again. "You're young and pure. I'm distinguished and cultured."

"Pure?" she laughed. "Hardly. And I think we can argue about cultured."

"I brought some dinner home from the deli." Mrs. Bernard emptied a couple bags onto the counter and dipped her finger into one of the dishes savoring a taste. "I just don't enjoy cooking any more. My personal expiration date is too near to be wasting time in the kitchen."

"Have you been gone long?" Sam asked.

"About an hour. I had my people move your car from the northern end at Corova to the other side of the causeway on the mainland. That ought to keep those _salauds _thinking," she said with just a lilt of her hidden French accent

"I suppose." Luka had become confident in the woman's experience. "What are we going to do? What's next?"

"I know it's hard to sit still, but right now we have to assume that Bob is toying with them. From what you've told me, these men know Bob. They've worked together which means that it will take days to break him down, although personally I doubt that Bob would ever crack." Mrs. Bernard cleared the table and made room for the dinner plates. All this going on and she still set a table as though it was a normal day. "I bet that he will let them _think _what they are doing is progress just to drag this out. Then he may eventually turn the tables. There's going to be a battle of wills and experience. A war, if you will. There is no evolution without revolution, so they say, and knowing Bob he will play his cards like an experienced gambler."

"How long have you known Bob?" Sam asked.

"Oh… I guess… about ten days, give or take."

"_Ten…?" _Luka choked on his own saliva as he suddenly sat up nearly dumping Sam on the floor. "You talk like you've known him his whole life."

"Pish - we're cut from the same cloth. He came asking to rent a room. It took me all of a half day to figure out who and what he was. Once our backgrounds were established it was like a family reunion. Coffee or Lemonade?"

"Coffee," the two answered in unison craving the caffeine.

"How about the children? What have they been up to?"

"Playing downstairs, still." Sam looked at her watch. "Time to check Alex's blood sugar."

"Let them have some time," Luka tried to suggest. "I think they're finally getting along."

"Still, I better check on them."

"Sam…" Luka put his arm around her from behind and hooked it around her chest slowly drawing her into him, "…ten year old boys don't like their mothers checking up on them especially in the presence of girls." He kissed the side of her neck once, twice, then moved slowly upwards until he got to her soft, fleshy ear lobe giving it first a nip then a simultaneous warm breath and sensual tongue to the backside.

"Okay," she said pulling away, "right there tells me you're wrong."

Luka sighed and resigned himself yet again to the separation of warmth and wanton lust. "Let me. I'll see what they're up to."

"And tell Alex to check his glucose," she reminded him.

Luka walked backwards for the first few steps smiling at Sam and hoping that she shared the same sparkle that he knew was beaming from his eyes. Some things just can't be hidden.

With Mrs. Bernard in the kitchen, Sam wandered up to the telescope and looked into the eyepiece for the first time. It was more complicated than she thought - hard to get her bearings. As she slowly moved it from one side to the other, the image raced by. Sam pointed it to the ground to focus it on something she could recognize - first the edge of the cul-de-sac, then the boardwalk, then she traced the boardwalk over to Anna's carport…

"_LUKA_!"

"What is it dear?" Mrs. Bernard asked as she ran to see what Sam had become startled over.

"_SAM_!" Luka took the stairs two at a time and nearly fell over his own feet as he reached the living room. "The kids."

"_I know_."


	26. Chapter 26 His & Hers

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Chapter Twenty-Six  
(Conclusion, Part 1)**

"They're not up here?" Luka asked. His eyes were wide with the fear of the unknown, though deep down he knew whose hands the kids could be in.

Sam shook her head and tried to say something, her mouth unable to connect with the jumbled thoughts masquerading in her head as missing children posters. Instead, she pointed at the telescope.

"Where?" Luka darted to the top of the widow's walk and squinted into the eyepiece. "I don't see them."

"On the boardwalk," she managed with a dry rasp of a voice.

A pause while Luka focused and figured out what he was looking at. "The… the _vest_."

Sam nodded, her shoulders hiking up with trepidation as she and Luka matched equally dreaded stares through each other.

"We don't know for sure," Mrs. Bernard gave with a need to control the situation, "if the children went over there."

"Alex would never just go there. He might test the limits," Sam tried to rationalize, "but I don't think he would leave here."

"But dear," the old woman said with remarkable calm, "they didn't know who was in that house other than John and Anna. Could they really have anticipated what _we _know as fact?"

Sam's hand reflexively went to her mouth as she stifled a scream, a cry or some outward emotion that would make Alex come back to her. Seeing her fingers quiver, Luka moved in and pulled her into his body - tightly, taking her hand away from her mouth and holding it against his own chest, wanting to help, needing her stability himself as emotions of his own - the fear and terror of the jungle and Jules, the helplesness - came flooding back into his being. To be subjected to that kind of horror as an adult is one thing, but for a _child_…

"We'll find them, I promise you that," Mrs. Bernard tried to encourage them. "Who knows? Maybe they went down to the shore."

Sam reached up and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "Those men, they're specifically looking for us and the kids, we know that. They would never have gotten past the house."

"Well, it doesn't appear that they are even missing their deck look-out. How is he Luka?"

"Enjoying his Demerol induced sleep in your bedroom."

"And having lurid dreams about those handcuffs he's wearing as well, I'm sure," Mrs. Bernard chuckled.

Luka took a deep breath and held it for what seemed like minutes until he had made up his mind. Giving the top of Sam's head a quick kiss, he pushed her away. "I'm going over there."

Sam upped the ante as she followed him down the short staircase to the living room area. "Me too."

"No, you are **not**." Mrs. Bernard had a sudden surge in assertiveness as she quite firmly grabbed Luka by the upper arm. "_If _those children are in that house, we can only assume that they have enabled Bob to out number his opponents. Even though they are children, they still throw a wrench in the works and that's a plus on our side. I know men like Arkwright and Ellington. I've worked _with _and _against _people just like them, from Nazi Germany to Cuba, Communist East Germany, Hong Kong, Russia and even here in the United States. Yes, they would kill even children to get what they want, but not if they held the answers. Barging in there now might just get all of them killed." She was stern and certainly didn't make light of the consequences they were up against. "We wait, okay?"

"For _what_?" Sam's voice cracked as she struggled keep from rushing to her child.

"Time, dear. Time." As the old lady nodded and gave Sam an oddly comforting smile, she moved to the kitchen where she picked up the phone. "I don't have access to agents any more, but I do have a lot of friends here. I think it's time to set up some distractions for our friends across the way."

* * *

_**Patience and the passage of time do more than strength and fury.** -Jean De La Fontaine 1621-1695, French Poet  
**

* * *

** _

Carter didn't mind putting his arm around Anna as they sat next to each other on the sofa, even if Max was squarely perched on the chair directly across from them, gun in hand, not too sturdy of sobriety. In fact, the jittier Max became, the tighter Carter pulled Anna into himself, planting a soothing kiss on her head as a bonus. He figured if he couldn't break Max by reminding him how long it had been since his last fix, he'd flaunt his ex-wife in front of him instead, a happy ex in the arms of another man.

"Awful lot of talking downstairs," Carter matter-of-factly made note out loud. "Aren't you afraid that your buddies will take off on you, Max? _Without _payment?"

"Shut up." The drops of sweat on Max's face were beginning to congregate and slip off of his upper lip despite the house's air conditioning at full function.

"Just trying to be of some help here." Carter brushed at his pants with his hand as though smoothing out wrinkles, though it simply gave him something 'normal' to do while he chatted with Max. "Seems you're doing a whole bunch of nothing."

"What would you know?"

"Oh," Carter couldn't hold back a laugh, "a whole lot more than you."

Max's chair flew out from under him as he lunged at Carter and pinned him down. Anna barely made it out of the melee as the two men rumbled on the floor, furniture toppling as they flung around, Carter finally getting the better of the shaky Max and restraining him face down with his elbows connected at the back - something Carter learned in Africa, the hard way.

"I swear Max, if you make a sound I will blow your head off." Anna stood across the room holding the gun that Max had lost control of, though her trembling hand did not give Carter confidence in her aim as he sat atop the addict.

"Anna…"

"No, John, I'm not going to take this anymore -"

" -No, Anna…" Carter put his hand out trying to ward her back, giving Max a chance to loosen up on the floor.

"Uh-uh, no. We need to get out -"

" -Anna…"

"Yes, Anna," a voice loomed from behind, "why don't you give me the gun now. I think our little fun is over." His gun laid heavy and most steady on her temple as Ellington reached around and relieved Anna of her weapon, but he didn't stop there as he stroked her neck with the long gun barrel then let it play among the long stands of blond hair. "You disappoint me, Maxwell. I'd have to say that if I were not as strapped for assistance, we'd have to reconsider our arrangement." With his dirty eyes still glued to Anna, within inches of her neck, he tossed the gun back to Max.

"Don't let that son of a bitch press your buttons." From behind Ellington, the second man finally appeared. "John Carter comes from a long line of self indulgent, blue blooded entitlement mongers."

"Still trying to compensate for your short comings, Arkwright?" Carter asked as he righted himself against the sofa, not quite oxygenated enough yet to make it to his feet.

"That's laughable, John. You can sit in your mansion with your help and whine all you want about what your worth is, but it's people like me who are in control of how and when the news gets out there."

"Do what you want, I'm not the one who has cared what people think of me. I haven't lied, cheated or stolen myself into any particular social circle."

"Boo hoo," Arkwright snorted. "Believe me, there's no direction for you to go in but down, my friend. And me? It's uphill all the way. Everyone knows me, they trust me. Around the world, the media giants lick my feet to get what they want because they believe what I tell them. And they believe that I am a faultless God of sorts…"

"Been playing with the devil a bit too long for anyone to believe that."

"Ellington here?" Arkwright gave his cohort a pat on the back. "Why, he's revered among operatives in the agency. I've set him up to be the go-to man."

"Just like you set Emile Dia Wamba up to be the devil in the eyes of the world when you _know _he's only good news for his own people?" Carter finally managed to stand on his two feet and take Arkwright on in his war of words. "You don't want the fighting to end there, do you? Because that would mean an end to your profit."

Ellington and Arkwright looked at each other and paused for a couple seconds before erupting in a gut chuckle. "He's good," Ellington jabbed. "Damn good!"

"Maybe _too _good," Arkwright whispered in Ellington's ear before patting him on the shoulder and making his exit out the front door.

"What have you done with Bob?" Carter asked as though Ellington would ever tell him the truth.

"He's checking out the plumbing downstairs. Patching a leak for us."

"How about you let Anna go." More wishing.

"How about you give me what I want."

"We don't have anything, Ellington, you know that," Carter said with an absurd tone to his voice. "This is really ridiculous. You've got Max here sampling withdrawal -"

" -You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you," Ellington countered, knowledgably.

"Yeah, I would. And pretty soon he's not going to be much help to you. God knows what you've done to Bob, and…"

"And?" Ellington closed in on Carter and got within inches of his face.

"And… you've ruined a perfectly good vacation."

"You think you're smart, don't you? Do you really take me for a fool?" Ellington was beginning to lose his edge, as Carter nudged his comfort zone. "If Maxwell falters, then I hold you responsible, doctor, and I'll have to reduce our numbers here starting with little Anna." His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Ellington tilted his head even closer to Carter's face and, as if knowing exactly where Anna was, raised the gun to her face without moving his eyes, without even blinking. "I could erase you from the face of this earth and leave not a trace of your DNA, not even a hair follicle. So don't mess with me, you little spoiled turd."

Carter stared him back down, playing his game, though inside not quite so unaffected. "We don't have what you want. If we did, we wouldn't hesitate to give it to you so we could all get back to sunbathing." Carter managed to remain perfectly still, his breath so close to Ellington's face, that it moved a drop of sweat from the man's nose. "And if you really were _that _good, I suspect you wouldn't have carelessly lost what you're looking for to begin with."

Glancing at Max to see that his own gun was back in hand and ready to shoot, Ellington put his handgun into the back of his waistband and roughly grabbed Carter by the shoulders, throwing him into the tall glassed curio cabinet against the wall. The force of the collision broke all of the glass and toppled both the cabinet and Carter to the ground.

"**Hey**…" Bob's voice was heard for the first time from downstairs. "What the hell are you doing?"

----------

"Did you hear that?" Amanda asked as both kids scooted to the louvered doors hoping to see something between the narrow slats.

"Do you think somebody got hurt?"

Amanda shrugged her shoulders and retreated back to the corner of the laundry room where she and Alex had made semi-comfortable beds with the sheets and towels that had been washed and folded previously. "I just want to get out of here."

Alex ignored her as he played with the doors and figured out how to loosen the two lower hinges just enough to squeeze out. "I'm going to find out what's going on."

"Alex… _no_. You'll get caught."

"And what do you think they'll do to me? Lock me up? Come on…"

Amanda shook her head defiantly. "Nope. I'm staying put."

"Fine, baby. I'll scope out the perimeter."

Amanda rolled her eyes as she laid on her side and closed her eyes.

Alex stopped outside the laundry room and took his shoes off hoping it would give him added silence. Up the five steps to the landing at the front door and around the corner he saw Bob's feet at the top of the next five stairs. He was still in the same place. Before Alex could make the turn on the landing to get up to Bob, Ellington appeared from upstairs prompting the boy to stay on the first set of stairs around the corner, just below the men but out of sight.

"Who are you messing with up there?" Bob asked as he struggled to get comfortable in the position he was in on the floor shackled to the plumbing under the sink.

"Just a little harmless fun with Anna's boy toy."

"He's had enough. Lay off him."

"Maybe I should go down and get that little girl of yours?"

"You will leave her alone." Bob unconsciously tugged at the plumbing, the steel of the handcuffs not willing to budge.

"I think that maybe she has the answers I'm looking for."

"I think you'll leave those kids alone," Bob repeated.

"Bob, you disappoint me. You know that kids are weak. They'll do anything for Daddy - and Daddy will do anything for kiddo."

"That's why you'll **leave her alone**."

"You speak in riddles, Bob. Excuse me," he said as he wandered towards the staircase, "while I check on our smallest captives."

"**Ellington**, you **_will _**leave her alone."

Bob connected with him. Whether it was with body language, eye contact or secret agent stuff, the two seemed to transfer knowledge to each other through the air.

"What's your point, Bob?"

Bob's face actually twitched. "I trained you better than this. Background? You did none?" Bob's questions went unanswered. "Colleen's blood type is _O-positive_. Mine is _O-positive_."

"So?"

"Amanda's is **_A-positive_**."

Ellington paused - no, he faltered - then connected with the wall behind him and leaned on it as if intending to do so all along.

"Two **_O's_** don't make an **_A_**, do they? **_You _**are A-positive."

"Doesn't mean anything -"

" -**_Bullshit_**. I know _exactly _who Colleen was working with when we were seeing each other in Damascus, and how long we were apart when you sent me to Beirut. Gives a new meaning to _embedded reporters_."

"Too bad the Agency saw fit to promote me above you."

"You god damn… Are you telling me that you are so cold that you'd torture and kill your own daughter for diamonds?"

"I'm supposed to believe you?"

Alex breathed slowly using each intake of air with great care as he froze against the wall. Had he really heard…? Swallowing hard to keep the pool of saliva from running out of his gaping mouth, Alex finally plied his feet from their spot and tip-toed back to the laundry room where he found Amanda lying on the floor, nearly asleep.

"Quit looking at me," she said without even opening her eyes.

"I was just wondering," he stuttered.

"Wondering what?"

"My blood type is O-negative. What's yours?"

"What does it matter?"

"I don't know. Just wondering. You know, in case of emergency my mom says that someone should know your blood type because if…"

"Shut up." For once, Alex actually _did _stop talking and when Amanda opened her eyes to see what his problem was she laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?"

"Your hands are shaking. You a scaredy cat?"

Alex looked down at his trembling hands and quickly stuffed them into his pants pockets. "I just need to eat something, I guess."

----------

"It's been dark for hours," Luka mumbled as he sat on the window seat next to the telescope and mindlessly picked at his lip, "it's too quiet." The central air was off and windows open to take advantage of the salty ocean breeze of the night. A clock ticking above the bookcase, the occasional hum of the refrigerator both the only sounds beyond the cadence of the cicadas and crickets humming themselves to sleep under the warm moon lit seascape.

"Do you suppose Alex has eaten?" Sam was on the floor in front of him sitting cross legged against his dangling legs.

"He should be okay until morning. At least he's got his insulin pump. I can't imagine they'd keep kids from eating."

Sam leaned into her hands and tried to rub the frustration from her tired eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can take this, Luka."

"I know." His hand cupped the top of her head as he tried to reassure her, though he was just as discouraged as Sam.

"Bob knows," Mrs. Bernard said as she rounded the corner from the kitchen below, "that the longer he keeps them hanging, the more likely they are to start making mistakes and that's when he'll make his move."

"What if he isn't able to make his move, whatever that means," Sam asked from her somewhat defeated repose.

"Well, we will address that if that happens, okay dear?"

"Lights are on." Luka stood up and angled the telescope towards the house, alternating between looking into the eyepiece and checking out the security cameras. "There's movement. I think I see Amanda. That guy, Ellington, has her by the arm."

"Alex…?" Sam asked with trepidation.

Luka shook his head. "No."

"I suspect that our opponents are getting a little distracted," Mrs. Bernard summed up.

"I'm going over there," Luka said as he batted the telescope from his face and rushed down the stairs.

"Luka, you **must **wait," the old lady countered as she followed. "Please, let time take its course."

"I have, and I'm not waiting any longer. I'll just get close enough to check out the situation."

"Me too," Sam shouted as she bounced down the stairs and joined Luka.

Luka stroked his day's growth of beard as he tried to find the words to keep Sam from the danger. "No, Sam… we don't know what's going on over there -"

" -My son is in there," she said with such conviction that Luka knew that there was no way he was going to be able to keep Sam from her child any longer.

"Alright, but you do what I tell you."

Sam nodded, her long curls bouncing off her shoulders, maybe even with a bit of a shudder as she caught wind of Luka's fear for her own safety.

"Well," Mrs. Bernard sighed, "I can't keep you here against your will. Not at my age anyway. There used to be a time when I…" she drifted off in thought as she led Luka and Sam to a locked room. "Might as well take some protection with you." Once through the double locked door, she turned a light on to reveal an arsenal of weapons propped up on shelves, stacked on the floor and even some mounted on the wall. "You have experience with firearms?"

As Luka nodded he was taken aback at Sam's own answer. "Rifles all the way down to six-shooters."

"Good," Mrs. Bernard said as she reached up to a shelf and pulled down a large silver box locked by combination. Opening it exposed two guns, well taken care of and certainly not for normal sport. She pulled them from the protective foam padding and gave one each to Luka and Sam who looked them over carefully.

"This one has initials," Sam said as she turned it sideways and read the engraving on the butt of the gun. "Who is _H-I-S_?"

"Mine is engraved too," Luka noticed, cocking his head to read it.

"Oh, that," Mrs. Bernard said almost demurely. "They were an anniversary gift to me and my husband from… well… let's just say they were from someone high up."

"_H-E-R-S_," Luka read from the gun in his hand.

"His and hers," Mrs. Bernard corrected them with a cheesy grin. "Jack was a good man to work for. Too bad he died so young…"

Without a beat, Luka and Sam exchanged raised brows with each other, then guns.

* * *

_**A man does what he must -- in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers -- and this is the basis of all human morality. **-John F. Kennedy 1917-1963, Thirty-fifth President of the USA  
**

* * *

**_


	27. Conclusion: My Friends Call Me Bob

**POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK  
**_by Sharon R._

**Conclusion, Part 2  
"My Friends Call Me Bob"**

"What the…?" Max threw open the blinds and opened one of the sliding doors leading to the top deck from the living room. "What are all those people _doing _down there?"

"Look who came for a visit, boys and girls." Ellington appeared at the top of the stairs with Amanda and pushed her towards Anna. "You baby sit the little waif while I get our other visitor." Back down the stairs and a moment later he was back up dragging Bob to the cluster of captives. Throwing him to the center of the room where Amanda immediately went to her father's aid, Ellington made sure his gun was front and center. "Now we're going to play some hard ball. Max… **_Max_**. What the hell are you doing out there?"

"There's a bonfire on the beach. You can't do that. It's illegal up here."

"Tell them to go away."

"The beach is public, Max," Anna reminded him. "You can't do that."

"There must be twenty people and… is that a… _a_ _keg_?"

"Wishing you got an invitation, party boy?" Bob asked as he sat on the floor rubbing his wrists.

"You can always call Beach Patrol." Anna moved towards the phone, though stopped when Bob's gun happened to point in her direction.

"Where is Alex?" Bob whispered to Amanda who shrugged.

"What?" Carter awoke from the sofa where he had found a comfortable spot, face down. "Are the kids here? _Ouch_…" Hugging the pillow his head was propped on, Carter winced as the cuts from the curio cabinet explosion rubbed against his shirt.

"I wish you would just let me check him out." Anna felt helpless as she was made to stand away from Carter.

"He's not bleeding to death, is he?" Max argued with her. "The blood has barely soaked through a few spots. Get a grip, Anna."

"What is _wrong _with you?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong -"

"_Alright_, Mr. and Mrs. Bickerson, take your corners and leave the fighting to me." Ellington moved between the warring couple putting his hand around the barrel of Max's gun. "If you're going to subject me to DT's, withdrawal, seizures, or… whatever, don't be pointing that thing at me."  
-----

Luka and Sam walked several houses north to access the beach from another boardwalk. The sand under their feet made the descent down the stairs tricky preventing them from getting secure footing on the dry wood planks. They stayed close to the dunes as they spied Anna's house in the distance just in case the beach was being scoped out from above. It was dark, though the moonlight cast a reflective repose on the calm waters at low tide and the two stood out among the few beach strollers as their obvious stroll away from the surf, single file hugging the dunes with no lanterns, with shoes on, was odd.

They stopped short of the beachfront they had become accustomed to when a large group of partiers whooping it up around a bonfire came into view.

"What do we do?" Sam asked as she came up behind Luka.

"Just go. Go up the stairs. Mrs. Bernard said something about distractions."

Nobody even looked at them as they headed up the steep staircase, then exited the planks before the boardwalk leading to Anna's carport entrance began. As they hunkered down among the sea oats on the dunes they ceased talking at that point, and instead Luka conveyed his thoughts to Sam by mouthing words and using his hands. She carefully walked on the rugged weed strewn sandy area until she had made it to the cement pad of the carport. This is where their primitive communication failed to be 100 percent successful.

The weight of the gun took her by surprise as she pulled it out of Alex's backpack she had brought with her. Holding it with two hands back at the house was one thing, but now as she opened the door with her left hand, she struggled to maintain a decent grip of the gun in her right. Very slowly, very methodically, she opened the bedroom and bathroom doors on the basement level only to find them empty. She slid right past the darkened laundry room without even thinking to open those doors.  
-----

Ellington walked in tight circles around his victims, concentrating on Bob and Amanda, stalling every now and then to leer at Anna and snicker at Carter. "I've got places to go, people to see, folks," he sneered. "I know the games you play, Bob, and you don't fool me. See, I know that the others you sent packing can't be far. Little Junior Miss here didn't just walk in from the mainland," he surmised as he stroked her hair, "did you?"

Amanda wasn't the naïve little girl her delicate features portrayed, and when she whipped her head around and nailed his hand with her teeth, she proved the point. Ellington's scream lagged behind his gaping mouth as she took him by surprise. He raised his hand into a back swing and prepared to whack her hard across the face, but stopped short, his fuming ire uncharacteristically trapped within the confines of his vein popping, reddened neck.

Before Ellington could continue with his choreographed interrogation, a noise downstairs distracted him. His eyes widened and went to Bob, first, then the rest with a "make-a-noise-and-I'll-kill-you" look, before handing the helm over to Max and slipping silently down the front staircase. It wasn't long before he was joined back in the living room by a very reluctant Sam. With one gun in his hand, Sam's in his waistband, Ellington held her by her scalp, his fist full of her hair. She wasn't about to defy his instructions.

"Now one little monkey is all we have left to catch, and I bet he's not far behind. They do travel in packs don't they?"

"Clans," Amanda corrected him, her eyes squinting at him.

"What?"

"_Clans_, stupid. They travel in _clans_. Don't you know anything?"

"She's a smart girl," Bob said as he patted her on the back. "That's my princess."

"I'm pretty smart too," Ellington said as he steered Sam towards the sliding doors with his hand still firmly nested tightly in her hair, "and I say we start trading. Diamonds for lives. You're a reasonable mother, dedicated nurse…"

"More like dedicated mother and reasonable nurse," she spouted back.

"Ah, semantics," he laughed off, "and you're feisty. I like that."

"I bet you do."

"Hmmm… counting down from ten is just so boring. I think I'll start at… six." With almost a carefree and maybe amused look on his face, Ellington raised his gun to Sam's head. "Six, five… how about those diamonds… four, three…"

"**No**!" Bob stood and forcefully placed himself between Sam and the gun. "I told you, the diamonds aren't here. I'm the only one who knows where they are."

Tightening his already fierce grip on Sam's scalp, Ellington pushed his loathsome face into hers. "Is that true, Nurse Ratchet?"

The pain from her hair being nearly torn from her head only allowed Sam to vaguely nod, but she managed to at least mouth her answer as well.

"That changes things, doesn't it?" he said as he let Sam go with a shove and instead grabbed hold of Bob. "The whole world can do without you. Face it, Bob, there's nothing left for you at the agency."

"He has me," Amanda tearfully cried as she ran to her father but was stopped by Anna who pulled her aside into her arms.

"Even that's debatable from what I understand."

"Tell me something," Bob asked trying to change the subject, "you and Arkwright were working together in the Middle East, weren't you?" Ellington let Bob go on. "If I assume correctly, the reason you beat my ass out of there wasn't because my safety and covert status was in jeopardy. More like I was getting too close to who the mole was in the agency - and who the outside American source was that was funneling illegal terrorist state money into offshore American corporate accounts." Ellington sniggered at the assumptions. "And would there possibly be connections with certain government officials who dabble in corporations on the side? How much blood money were you paid for that job?"

Ellington erupted and backhanded Bob with his gun before getting on the floor and snarling in his face. "You're lucky the safety was on and none of your joker friends here got capped. Now, **_get up_**."

"You're losing your touch, El," Bob said as he caught a glimpse of Luka lurking outside the sliding door. Amanda, too, noticed and followed her father's lead, playing cool to Ellington. As Bob got to his feet he feigned injury and gradually hopped over towards the screen that he and Luka had previously torn open, where the doctor now prowled just out of sight.

The side of the house was familiar to Luka. His back had hugged the shingles in that same place before, except his target at that time was outside on the deck. This time he knew he would have only one shot, and _two _men were holding guns inside. He'd have to act fast, with precision, and hope against hope that Carter and the rest could disarm Max just as sharply. Even though the door was slid open exposing the screen shabbily stuffed back into the creases, the crash of the surf drowned out the voices. He did know that Bob had seen him. He also knew that his heart was beating twice as fast as it should. He could have sworn his shirt was moving in time with his heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath, Luka peaked around the corner one last time and connected eyes with Amanda who simply dipped her chin once in recognition, then turned her attention back to the two men in front of her. Luka took this as a good sign and pushed his entire body through the screen toppling Bob and Ellington to the floor. Once again, there were three men in the pile, only this time Luka had some help and between he and Bob, they wrestled the gun away from Ellington. While Luka sat on their now prisoner, Bob frisked him down and removed a plethora of weapons. But all was not safe - not yet.

"Don't do this Max," Anna pleaded as Max's nerves started getting the better of him, the gun pointed first at Carter, then the men on the floor, at Sam, but never at Anna. "This isn't you. You're a brilliant doctor - you heal people, not hurt them." She may have exaggerated a bit, but she knew she was right.

"Max, listen to me," Carter said quietly as he approached the loan gunman from the side, "I can help you, I don't have much, but I have some sleeping pills that might take the edge off your withdrawal. Hmm?"

Max's eyes squeezed open and shut, his mouth tried to get out a stuttered string of words but it was just too much.

"We can help you," Anna added. "We know what you need."

"_I know _what you're feeling," Carter said, sincerely. "You need help. We can help each other if you just put the gun down."

Not wanting the moment to be ruined, Bob covered Ellington's mouth with his hand nearly cutting the oxygen off, not really caring if he did, except for the fact that Amanda would see it.

"You… you…," Max's grip loosened as he struggled to stay coherent, "you have _stuff_?"

Anna reached out to him, putting her hand on his shoulder while Carter relieved him of the gun, "we have stuff."

As soon as the guns were out of reach of Max and Ellington, Sam blurted out, "where is Alex? I don't see him."

"Down in the laundry room, "Amanda said. "They locked us in there."

"Go, Sam," Luka shouted as he helped Bob to secure Ellington, "I'll be right there."

She had walked right by him and never bothered to look in the laundry room. She was sick with fear as she yanked several times at the wedged doors, finally breaking them open, several of the louvered slats falling loudly to the tile floor below. Alex was asleep on a pile of clothes, barely awakening as Sam shook him. "Alex? Come on, honey, please wake up."

"I'm fine," Alex moaned. "Ten more minutes."

"Sam?" Luka had finally made it and, without much thought, picked Alex up in his arms and took him up to the living room. "He needs sugar," he said to anyone who was close to the kitchen. "Juice, candy, anything."

"I've got your glucometer, Alex," Sam said as she opened his backpack and took out the supplies. Her voice shook with fear, her trembling fingers unable to put the lancet in the lancet pen.

"I can do that," Amanda said as she took the lancet from Sam. "He taught me how to do it. I bet his number will be somewhere between forty and fifty."

Sam smiled and watched the girl as she skillfully loaded the lancet pen, then pricked the side of Alex's finger. Without much effort she squeezed his finger until she milked out a hefty droplet of blood onto the test strip, then loaded it into the machine. "Forty-two. Okay, on the low end of my estimate, but still within the range. He needs sugar."

"Thank you, doctor," Luka said with a grin, handing Alex the food he needed. "Send us a bill?"

"Oh no," she answered waving her hand in the air, "consider this _pro bono_."

Through the night, the men took turns watching the stoned Max and irritable Ellington now handcuffed to the plumbing downstairs. As the children slept, Bob went through all of Amanda's digital pictures and loaded them onto his laptop, all within sight of his daughter on the sofa. He knew she must have heard what he said about her mother. He had always built Colleen up to be a hero in Amanda's eyes. He wanted her to have pleasant memories of her mother. Now she knew the truth and she would carry that burden with her for the rest of her life just as Colleen had when she learned the truth about her own father. Some things just don't skip generations.

"What's the date?" Carter asked in the morning.

"May tenth." Anna glanced at the calendar and saw that her time on the Outer Banks was coming to an end, in more ways than one. "Why?"

"I've got an idea. Bob, what if we go public with this information?"

"It's illegal to out a covert CIA agent."

"Arkwright's not CIA."

"He's AKMW," Luka answered as he slugged back some orange juice from the carton before throwing the empty box out. "Ass kissing money whore."

"I know Arkwright probably better than you,"Carter thought out loud. "He'll use the American press to ruin our lives if we don't do anything."

"Yeah, well, he owns the press," Bob answered.

"Not _all _of the press."

"What are you getting at?" Bob asked, quite interested in Carter's plan at this point.

"We need to get to Washington D. C. - _today_."

"Are we leaving before fourteen hundred hours?" Alex asked from over the sofa where he had parked himself with his Gameboy.

"Why?" Bob was now getting credible information from the least likely source.

"Because that's when Ellington's minions are supposed to return."

"Minions?" Bob asked not wanting to diminish the boy's information. "How many?"

"Two _very _big guys."

"My SUV is gone," Luka reminded them. "How will we all get there?"

"Take Max's precious Escalade," Anna offered. "Dirty it up, kick the panels and make sure you key it good."

A phone call later and Mrs. Bernard was at the door, a weapon protruding from her shawl. "Where are those scallywags?" Following Carter's pointed finger up the stairs, she found Ellington on the floor handcuffed to the plumbing.

"Oh, Christ," he mumbled, "not the old neighbor lady again."

"You spent time in Congo I presume," she said quite calmly, Ellington catching on quickly that her previous appearance was an award winning act. "I was wondering, _on t'a bercé trop près du mur?"_

"You're funny, old lady."

"Mmm, _et tu as une plus **petit** noeud_!"

Luka could be heard laughing from upstairs as Sam looked on puzzled. "Did she comment on his… his reproductive organ?"

"Very much so," Luka answered, still getting a rise from the woman's comment.

"Okay, off with you. I will stay here with these two until I can find someone to take care of…" As she swayed sideways, Mrs. Bernard clutched at her chest.

"What is it?" Anna asked. "Your heart?"

"Just some angina. I had some earlier."

"And you took your medicine?"

"Yes, but it's never happened like this."

Anna and Carter helped her to a chair where they checked her pulse. "We need to get you to the hospital," Anna said.

"No, no - Luka and John have a mission to complete and I won't stand in your way."

"I will take you," Anna said, grabbing her purse from the banister.

"You can't separate from the group - not alone," Bob reminded her.

"I'll go too." Sam helped Mrs. Bernard to her feet as Anna managed her other side. "We can meet you there. We have the address."

Luka and Carter looked helplessly at their women and then at Bob for answers. "They should be okay," Bob reassured them. "They'd be looking for me and I'll be long gone by the time they get back on track. You two go ahead."

Before they left, Bob made one last check of his prisoners. "Going to tie Max up?" he asked as Carter looked over the sleeping addict.

"Nah. They'll kill him. He just needs to get on with his life. I'll leave him a little present for when he wakes up." Drawing up a dose of Demerol into a syringe, he carefully laid it on the nightstand with the empty vial. "Enough to take the edge off and give him a few more hours sleep, not enough to do him in."

As they walked past the cuffed Ellington, the man stuck out his foot to get their attention. "They won't believe you. Two doctors - one a foreigner, the other an addict. Not very credible. Arkwright will make them laugh at you with a flick of the wrist." Getting no response, he tugged against the cuffs. "Hey, a man has to go to the bathroom, you know. You gonna make me pee my pants?"

"Yeah?" Carter said sarcastically as he emptied a flower vase and put it on the floor just out of reach. "I know a lot about that too. Enjoy."

"I'm bored," Alex whined as they got in the Escalade. "No books, no movies, nothing."

"I can tell you a story about a star named Rigel," Carter said as he sat between the two kids in the back seat. "He couldn't wait to be a bright, shining star. But the big guy, Betelgeuse, told him that he was too fast on his points and was more suited to be a shooting star, but Rigel didn't listen…"

* * *

_**When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS.** -Mahatma Gandhi 1869-1948, Indian Political, Spiritual Leader  
**

* * *

**_

As they stepped out of the vehicle at the hotel and turned it over to the valet, Luka notice the blood stains on the back of Carter's shirt. "You can't go in there like that."

Amanda, seeing the stains herself, took off the tan vest and held it out to Carter. "Go ahead, take it. It's yours anyway."

"I can't," he said as he floundered a bit with the thought of ever wearing something like that again. Anna's touch on his arm helped to bring him back to earth and realize the need to disguise what had happened at the beach house and he reluctantly donned the vest for the first time since Pakwach… and Colleen.

"My name is Dr. John Carter. I called earlier," Carter said to the gentleman in the tuxedo outside the ballroom. "Mr. Jeffrey Alton Dutton is expecting me."

The man picked up a clipboard from his desk and carefully looked through the names. "I'm sorry, Dr. Carter, but I don't have you here on the list and the program has already started."

"Are you Dr. Carter?" A voice asked from a well groomed man in a tuxedo coming from the room. "I had made arrangements to have another journalist accept CJ's award, but when you called an hour ago I was pleasantly surprised. You've taken a very nervous friend of mine off the hook. Welcome." The two men shook hands as the National Press Club President eyed Carter's entourage. "Are these your… people?"

Carter laughed. "No, actually these are my colleagues, Dr. Luka Kovac…"

"Ah, _yes_," Dalton interrupted, "I remember your picture from your, um, unfortunate kidnapping incident in Africa."

"And this is Dr. Robert Romano," he lied giving Bob a cover. "And his children of course."

Amanda eagerly put her arms around her father, well in character, but Alex needed some nudging from Luka to do the same. A happy picture of father and children all wrapped up in a perfect bow.

"We are about to introduce the Capa award," Dalton whispered almost apologetically. "Did you bring a change of clothes?"

Luka and Carter instinctively looked over their attire and felt their just as mismanaged unshaven faces. "We wanted to come dressed as we would be in Africa… at the camps... for effect… you know."

"Ah… very creative," the man said quite impressed. "This will make your presentation much less of a snore fest than the journalists and politicians out there are used to."

"I'm sure we'll make quite an impression," Luka spoke up. "We're waiting for our lady friends, Dr. Del Amico and Samantha Taggart, if you could look out for them."

"…_it is with great pleasure…"_

"Get started with your presentation," Bob told them quietly back stage, "and then Amanda and I will slip out. Don't worry, I'll take good care of our _cargo - _every last carat."

"…_that I introduce to you, two of CJ Reilly's favorite subjects. Drs. John Carter and Luka Kovac."_

With firm handshakes, Carter and Luka said good bye to Bob. As Carter first made his way to the podium on the stage, Amanda tugged on Luka's shirt and crooked her finger at him to bend down. "I have something for you," she whispered in his ear. Reaching in her pocket she pulled out Mbuto's coin and put it in his hand. "You saved my dad's life." Her smile and sparkling eyes were all Luka needed to encourage him on stage in front of all those people. They would be putting on _some _show.

"Hello, my name is John Carter, this is Luka Kovac, and our friend here with the laptop is Alex. He's much more adept at the computer thing than we are." The audience laughed as Carter slowly relaxed into speaking mode. "People ask why we do what we do. Why we went back to the continent where we had been kidnapped and tortured. The answer is simple: to make sure that we don't lose sight of our tickets." Carter nodded to Alex who started a projected slide show. The first picture up, a photo of Joseph that Luka had carried with him. "I once knew a real hero named Joseph who said, _everybody is born with a ticket to the pearly gates in their pocket. Just make sure you don't lose it among all that loose change. _He had a college degree, spoke four languages yet, he stayed behind in his war torn country to help his people. He wanted his children to learn how to better themselves and promote humanity, not accept oppression."

Stepping aside, Carter let Luka take the helm. "_I don't feel the need to define my life by the mountains I have taken. To me, I measure my personal credibility by what I have **not** done, instead of what I have accomplished_. Joseph lived that philosophy up until the day the rebels shot him in the head while the three of us were kneeling on the jungle floor blindfolded." The room was a hush as the journalists were hearing information that had, up until then, been kept secret. "We met Colleen Reilly on our return to Uganda. She marched into the refugee camp - lightening in the distance, a dust storm clouding the air. She was the only one in the bug infested jungle who wore shorts, and those bugs were scared of her too." As he smiled, those who knew Colleen's tenacity laughed along with him. "She took pictures of the people who worked at our camp and volunteered their time - volunteered their lives in some cases, and made it a matter of record when she published them in various newspapers and magazines." The slide show flipped through several pictures of the camp including Sean, Sera, Buzby, Toomay and her children, the mission workers and Todd. "On a good day, Africa manages to spend eleven cents per person in refugee camps while we in the developed world make sure that other countries receive enough money to spend almost two dollars a day per person. Thousands of people die every day in Africa from starvation and preventable or treatable diseases, yet the world is treated to twenty four hour a day newscasts of movie stars in court, or politicians' private sexual affairs. The African people are considered disposable because no one has deemed them valuable enough to document. You can see by these pictures how Colleen spent most of her time. Most, but not all."

"She worked with everyone and anyone. Doctors, nurses, soldiers, rebels…" Carter paused and looked up through the blinding lights pointed at him only to make out the images of Arkwright and Ellington standing at the back of the ballroom. "She would stop at nothing to get a story…" He looked out again and saw that Arkwright was holding Anna, and Ellington had Sam by the arm. The two breaths he took and seemingly clammed up pose gave the audience pause as they waited for more.

Bob was getting ready to slip out when he noticed Carter's sudden stall, then Luka's panicked look. He had a feeling - right in his gut - and without much effort his eyes also located the women obviously held against their will, probably as hostage for information meant to be kept quiet. Bob swallowed hard, asked the stage hand to get something for him, then walked on stage with Amanda in tow.

"Hello everyone," he said into the microphone as Carter and Luka stepped back. The two tried to get Bob to leave, worried about his cover, but were brushed off in typical Bob fashion. "My mother named me Vivian. Colleen - _CJ_ - loved to tease me about that. My real name is Vivian Mark Pace. Until about a minute ago I was a life long covert CIA agent, and yes, I have just blown _my own _cover." The room was a buzz with whispers, cell phones and blackberries suddenly appeared on table tops and Bob simply waited for the shock to subside. "My friends call me Bob and I was briefly married to Colleen. Together we were blessed with this beautiful child." Bob put his arm around the timid Amanda and coaxed her to his side for people to see. "You can see that she shares CJ Reilly's genes." The audience chuckled again, but now it was more apprehensive as they waited for the next shoe to drop.

Bob leaned over to Alex and handed him a disc for the laptop. "I have pictures that I had saved for my daughter of her mother's work. I'd like to share them with you." While Alex inserted the disc and worked to get the new slideshow up and running, the stage hand brought out an overhead projector. "Remember these things?" Bob joked. "Come on, you can't tell me that none of you were in the A.V. club at school." Another chuckle made its rounds in the audience. Reaching in his shirt pocket, Bob pulled out several Polaroid pictures and put them on the lighted projector. "CJ took these pictures of refugees not for money - not for notoriety - but to give these folks a sense of identity." He placed about a dozen of them down, layering them on top of each other and put the last one in the middle. "This one is of an old man looking at his own picture for the first time. Imagine living a lifetime and never seeing your image. I don't know, maybe it's a cruel dichotomy or maybe it's about people who don't care about what people think of them. The simple life - that's all these people want."

Nodding at Alex, the new slide show began. "These are pictures never before seen. I didn't know until recently that CJ carried a small digital camera with her. This was her personal camera. She would share her job with her daughter when they were together, but she also documented things that were never meant to be seen. She had a way of hiding things and this particular memory card was taped to the side of the camera."

Pictures started flashing across the screens, all new to Carter and Luka. Pictures of Emile Dia Wamba and his family, Carter sewing up his leg, and their trip to the hospital. "There is a peaceful man by the name of Emile DiaWamba working with the different warring factions in Congo. He is the only man the Lendu militia and their rival Hema militia will listen to. The people trust him, they have reason to. But those from the outside who seek only to profit from the natural riches of the country will have you believe otherwise. You see, sometimes journalists get so caught up in their work that they fail to see how easy it is to be used."

More pictures came up, the hut they were kept captive in, the 'Romano' rebel holding his machete blade to the ground under his boot while sharpening it with his one arm. The most disturbing one being of Carter hanging by his arms, a sack over his head, Jules by his side. The only way she could have taken that picture is if… Carter closed his eyes and looked away. He really didn't want to know.

"These pictures are hard to see, especially for my friends here. Maybe we'll never know why she took them, but I saw a sign out front that said, _if your pictures aren't good enough, you aren't close enough_. I want to believe that Amanda's mother got herself into places nobody else could so that she could document the unseen, the unthinkable." Amanda held her father's hand and gave it a squeeze. "But there's more."

Whispering to Alex, several pictures were skipped in favor of a few he wanted to highlight not for the audience, but for Ellington and Arkwright. "These are pictures she took on the last night of her life," he said somberly. Bob glanced at Luka knowing this would hit him hard. "Once upon a time in the Mbandaka Region of the Congo, a brutal rebel leader held a private celebration for those in his inner circle - those who made money _for _him, who made money _from _him and who in general tortured and killed for him."

Ellington and Arkwright visibly became slightly unhinged as the first picture appeared on the many screens. Way in the background, behind and to the side of the campfire, a man was shaking hands quite joyfully with another man. With each click of the button, a new slide appeared of the very same picture but they successively zoomed in on those two men finally making it apparent that one was the very well known, feared and dead Jules Akonda-Bouche. As Bob stayed silent, the journalists and politicians in the audience shifted forward on their chairs as they quickly realized that the man making a deal with Jules was none other than their own Arkwright. "Now, I can't identify the thirdman sitting next to Jules as it would be a felony for me to uncover his identity as a covert field agent," he said pointing to the blurred out face of a man sitting on a log. "It's funny how he always wears the same dark green pants and khaki shirt, though."

Pulling his hand out of his pocket, Bob held his fist in front of him. "I bet you were wondering what they were all doing at that party. Charades? Nah. Twister? Nah. How about illegal trade of narcotics and diamonds." With that he pushed the Polaroids off the glassed top of the overhead projector and opened his fist letting the diamonds trickle out for all to see. "Ever see African blue diamonds? They can fetch up to half a million dollars a carat." Bob whistled for effect as he feigned being impressed. "Colleen found herself in the middle of the biggest corruption story in the world and was saving her cache for the right time. Unfortunately, that night Akonda-Bouche's world collapsed around him and he took Colleen Reilly with him. She hid these diamonds away where one of these doctors or her daughter could find them and put them to good use. Maybe even discover the real story. I don't doubt that that will happen." Looking up he saw that Anna and Sam were still being held. "If we could shine a light on the audience, I would like to draw your attention to two wonderful health care workers who give of themselves every day together with our doctors here on the stage. How about a hand." Two spotlights were spun around and immediately glued to the four folks at the back of the room who looked painfully out of place, except for Arkwright who had on his tuxedo. Ellington, true to form donned his green pants and khaki shirt. As the audience clapped for Anna and Sam, they also realized who they were looking at and whipped their heads back and forth from the picture on the screens to the two men who reflexively let go of the women.

Carter and Luka, Bob and the kids exited the stage without fanfare as the audience rose to see secret service agents in the room, there to protect a former president, approach Arkwright and Ellington. Anna and Sam rushed out of the ballroom and back in through the backstage doors into the arms of their loving men.

"Yuck," Alex whined. "Tone it down, will ya. There are kids present."

"O-positive," Amanda whispered in his ear.

"What?"

"My blood type. It's O-positive."

"How do you know?"

"I had my tonsils out last year. It was on my hospital chart."

Alex nodded and just smiled.  
-----

Sam's hair was so soft, he'd almost forgotten. He loved to touch it as she slept - gently, very gently so as not to wake her. Luka would stroke it from the top to the tips almost as though to reassure himself that she was with him. But this night he kept his hand on her head feeling the warmth of her as she squirmed a bit while tending to her night time dreamscapes.

"What time is it?" she asked as he got out of bed. "I must have fallen asleep."

"Ten o'clock - almost." Luka reached to the chair and put the same scrub top on he had come home with. "That's okay," he said with a sly smile reaching over to give her another warm, passionate kiss, "I'm sure I exhausted you. I'm sorry, I have to go in."

Sam groaned as she turned over in bed exposing the ivory smoothness of her back. "You just got home."

"It only seems like it, but we've been occupied. Morris can't seem to handle a seven patient mass casualty."

"He's an **ass**," she murmured slipping back into sleep. "I hope a big raise came along with this promotion."

"Never thought I'd miss Weaver," he said stepping into his pants.

Sam rolled over and sat up sharply in bed. _"You _miss Weaver?"

Luka shrugged. "What can I say? The residents are scared of her. It works."  
-----

It had become a habit of Bob's to fight his own heavy eyelids until he knew for sure that Amanda was comfortably beyond what had become a frightful awakening. It's not as if he hadn't wanted this in the past. But after seeing her mother's pictures, after their experience on the run, she had been consumed with fear at night. They finally settled down in that big house he had promised her. Just the two of them. Bob was writing a book, staying in the public eye on purpose doing expert opinions for television cable news networks. He was even dating a nurse.

"You don't have to stay in here until I fall asleep, Dad," Amanda scolded. "You always fall asleep in that fancy chair."

"I don't mind."

"I think Chuny does. She's downstairs waiting for you. I heard Emily tell you that she was here."

Bob leaned forward on his elbows. "You sure?"

"Sure as shit on a hot day."

"Alex?" Bob asked knowing exactly where she got that.

Amanda nodded. "I got another one. Want to hear it?"

"**No**. Now go to sleep. I'll have Emily check on you." As Bob stood at the doorway watching his daughter snuggle into her bed, he couldn't help think about how much she looked like her mother.

"Dad? Can we eat at the big table with the bell again?"  
-----

Being with Anna was something that Carter had fought from within for both her sake and his. But now, after everything they had been through, they had come to… to… this. And this time he would make it work. Her hair was so soft…

"_Dr. Carter, we need you_," a voice bellowed through the door.

"I'll be right there." He looked into her eyes and melded his lips to hers one more time before letting them travel in a southerly route down her neck, cleavage, abdomen, and further as he scooted out from under the sheet at her feet. "Don't go anywhere," he said throwing on his scrubs, "I'll be right back."

"You might want to hold something over your midsection," she said pointing to his still hard erection inside his scrubs.

"Shit. We can play hide and seek later, maybe?" he said with a spark.

"_Dr. Carter, please, help us out_."

"Alright, Sera, give me a moment," he yelled. "Cold water, Chicago winters, origins and insertions of muscles," he mumbled out loud.

"Nope," Anna laughed, pointing to his middle, "still there."

"**_Carter_**," unmistakably, a yell preceded a loud metal bang at the bottom of the door, "_leave_ _that for sundown and give us a hand out here_."

"She is such a wanker," Carter groaned.

"That did it," Anna said as she pointed out his now flaccid member well tucked into his scrubs. "Why, oh why did you have to talk Weaver into volunteering at the camp?"

"Birth control," he joked. "I don't know. Momentary lapse in judgement, and I hoped that she would turn it down and offer me a full time job when I got back."

"Bad you."

"Bad me." Before he left, he stroked her leg through the sheet. "But I'm glad _you _came. My life is complete. Thank you."

"How long will you be gone?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders. "The press conference with Emile is some time later today in Bunia. Then we're meeting with UN officials and the government to talk about the new hospital in Ikela. They don't want to chopper me out of there until after dark, so I assume I'll be crawling into your bed in the wee hours."

"_Our _bed, doofus."

Carter winked at her as he left their small room in the back of the clinic and nearly ran a child over running in the back door. "_Whoa_, slow down, Mbuto. Where are you going?"

"Othiamba is teacher today. He told me to find him."

"Come here," Carter said as he spied Weaver on the other side of the treatment area and bolted into the office. "I got something in the mail today. I talked to Dr. Luka on the phone last week about all the work you've been doing with Othiamba and Toomay at the new school and he wanted me to give you this." Opening his desk drawer, Carter took out the play coin and gave it to Mbuto.

"I did a good thing?" the boy asked, the glow of his face framing his wide smile.

"Yes Mbuto, you did a _very _good thing."

**The End**

A/N: _And so ends the Pocket Change trilogy. If you have hung on through all three very long stories, then you deserve a prize. It was fun for me to venture into my imagination, but also a challenge to stay true to the ER characters while out of the well known setting and also interweave their beings with the characters I created. I thank you for staying with me on this long ride. In a week I'll be off with my family to the Outer Banks, then a few weeks later back to that spot in the Adirondacks for a family reunion. You can bet I'll be thinking of our PC characters._ -Sharon (hotmail addy: my3sonsanddone)


End file.
